Resurrection Snape
by Emeraldiz
Summary: After the war ends McGonagall finds out Hermione & gives her the journal of Severus Snape. But Hermione doesn't realise how much she is hanging onto the memory of her former professor until he turns up in her bedroom one night.
1. The Journal Of A Good Man

AN- This is a new idea that I thought I'd have a go at writing, born of the fact that I don't like the fate of a certain character in the books (he deserves much better), but I'm writing it as I go along so you might have to bear with me; I'll probably only be updating every week at best. Yes, it involves a time-related twist, but no, there is no actual going back in time, _per se,_ like so many other plots,so you'll just have to bear with it until I get to explaining everything. I think the introduction of this is probably a bit long before it actually gets going, but I just wanted to set the background and the scene of the world that Hermione is living in now before I actually get to the action, so I hope you can bear with it. Disclaimer- i don't own anything you may recognise!

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 1 – The Journal of a Good Man**

Hermione Granger could be found, as always, surrounded by books and parchments.

It was the middle of the afternoon on a seemingly ordinary Thursday and she had had just about enough of correcting the manuscript in front of her that she was preparing for publication. She didn't know what was waiting for her that evening, nor would she remember it later, but it would come about because of two of those precious books of hers. One of them was already in her possession, and the other would come to her that very day, the day everything changed.

She sighed irritably, striking another three lines out of the by now liberally red-streaked text before her and writing a note of amendment carefully in the margin to the side. This manuscript was just full of errors on the author's part. Truly terrible research, but apparently they were printing it, so it was her job to get it up to scratch. Why was she helping amend this pile of dung when she could write original research ten times this quality on her own, again? Sometimes her job truly exasperated her.

Throwing down her quill, she pushed up from her place amongst the teetering piles of books and parchment threatening to overspill her desk. Managing to navigate a path across the space of her cramped office, she immediately threw open the gloomy window to try and get a bit more light and air into the space. It didn't help much; the day was dank and overcast, and even if it had been brighter outside, the proximity of the buildings from the other side of the winding street was such that the room was always pretty dark. Only narrow rays managed to get that far down, into to the second storey of the office for Obscurus Books, London.

"Hermione?" a dreamy voice came floating through the room from the hallway, making her spin around on her perch on the windowsill. A second later the voice that had been calling her came into sight in the doorway. She was still only a dim silhouette even that close to Hermione, as the extra light from the window made the threshold into the room and beyond look extremely dark, but Hermione didn't have any trouble recognising the figure or her light, whimsical voice. "Hi!" the willowy figure addressed her again, coming closer into the room, her long blond hair whipping around her shoulders as she bounced towards her friend. "Fancy coming out for lunch with me, Hermione?" she asked tentatively, "I'm bored stiff in the shop this morning."

Hermione straightened up and stepped over to greet Luna Lovegood. "Luna!" she said warmly, giving the other girl a light hug and stepping back again to look over her appraisingly. "Why are you bored stiff at the shop? I thought you loved it there?"

"Well, I do, but there's been no customers that have actually placed orders at all so far today, and all I've had to occupy my time this morning is pruning the Flitterblooms and the ginger plants," she sighed pitifully. Anyway, I left that new assistant I hired in charge while I get lunch, and I thought maybe you might like to come too? I'm sure Federica can handle it for a couple of hours or so," Luna waved vaguely, as if it were nothing.

Hermione was sure that Federica could probably handle the practical running of Luna's magical floristry shop much better than Luna could handle it herself, if truth be told, but she decided not to comment on that particular fact. She had no idea how a woman as vague and fanciful, as Luna could often be, managed the practical things such as account handling and order taking on her own. It had certainly seem more ordered and less like organised chaos the last time she had been in there now that Federica had been hired to help out and was exerting her presence.

She considered her offer.

"I'd like to come to lunch, Luna, really," Hermione hesitated, feeling a bit guilty for knowing that she really didn't have the time to spare today on a lunch with Luna - with her could literally take hours… "But I don't know, I've kind of got loads of manuscript checking still to get through, I'm behind where I should be really…"

Luna looked mutinous, so Hermione hastened to explain all her backlog.

"I've got this stupid Venezuelan Botany guide that is making me have to pick through so slowly, can you believe the writer has actually confused some of the properties of aconite with red Innoxian plantweed, I mean that could be- "

"I'm lonely without Ginny around. I miss her," Luna sighed again abruptly, cutting off Hermione's rambling excuse and looking bluntly at her.

Hermione groaned mentally. Another awkward Luna comment that she didn't know how to respond to. Great. "Um... I miss her too, Luna, but it's not like she is gone forever, she'll be back within a month from the tour, provided none of the matches go on over schedule,"

"I know. But I miss Neville too, and Harry and Ron. I mean I know Harry and Ron haven't gone anywhere," she elaborated slowly, "but it feels like they have, doesn't it? All that Auror training is making them disappear," she said miserably. "Come and have lunch Hermione? I know you're missing them too. At least we could hang out together for a bit, and look, you're too stressed here," she said, waving her arms around in a very vague fashion to indicate all the mess of parchment and books that Hermione was supposed to be wading through, "you need a break," she finished.

It was said in a very authoritative way, and Hermione was finding it difficult to object, looking around herself. She _was _stressed, and she knew exactly what Luna meant; she had been missing the boys and Ginny terribly. She hadn't realised how little she had been able to hang out with friends recently, but now that Luna was pointing it out, it was kind of obvious that she had been feeling a bit lonely. She hadn't seen Ron or Harry since the weekend before last when they had all been together at the Burrow to celebrate George's birthday. Try as they might, that had been a bit of a sombre affair anyway, since it was also remembering Fred's.

"Fine, I'll come," Hermione relented quickly, before Luna could make her feel any guiltier. She knew the girl had to be just as lonely as herself recently what with the removal of two of her best friends- Ginny and Neville, who had both gone off on very different and exciting trips abroad. Ginny; who had finally made it off of reserves and on to the team as a fully-fledged member of the Holyhead Harpies; was on a world-competitive tour to promote the squad in other Quidditch strongholds around the world. The last postcard that Hermione had received from her had announced her to be in a wizarding settlement close to Vancouver in Canada, where there were a number of games set up against the local league. As for Neville, he was on a solo expedition researching and cataloguing the local magical varieties of plant life in the Caribbean islands, a trip that was to take him at least a year. Both she and Luna were both in regular contact with him, as his knowledge of botany was proving extremely helpful to some of Hermione's current projects, and he was sending some of his notes to her for editing into his own eventual journal on the island flora. Hermione knew that he was also helping Luna to source some of her rare breeds of magical flower for import into her shop direct from the Caribbean. It wasn't the same as having him nearby though, and it wasn't as if it was easy to just Apparate that far back on a regular basis.

Shoving all the thoughts of their far-flung friends aside for the moment, she grabbed up her purse and the outdoor-cloak hanging on the coat-stand by the office door, making her way out. Before she made it, however, an errant thought made her pause, looking back. Luna, who had already pranced out ahead of her, heard the halt and looked back too, frowning at her.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Yes, I just… let me grab something quickly. I'll just be a second," Hermione called back, hesitating just a second longer before rushing back to her desk. Opening the little drawer to the side she pulled out a small battered looking leather book. The leather was a dark, almost red colour, and the book was thick, the pages looking well thumbed and crumpled, not laying quite perfectly flat on top of another, which probably added to the volume. The cover was completely plain save a silver embossed monogram in the corner reading 'SS'. Grasping it carefully, almost reverently, she prised open the clasp of her purse and dropped the bound leather book as carefully as she could inside. It gave a soft thunk as it hit the bottom; she had taken to magically enlarging_ all _of her bags since the war, and this one, being no exception, was far larger on the inside than the tiny clasp purse it appeared to be. Having the book with her she felt much safer. That thing was her own special project, and she hated leaving it lying around. Ever since she had gotten a hold of it in her possession, she had taken to carrying it around with her nearly everywhere she went. Not like it was replaceable, after all.

That done, she followed Luna out of her offices. On the first floor they passed through reception. Luna waved merrily to the raven-haired witch behind the welcome desk as she pranced on past. She started down the spiral staircase leading to the shop housed below on street level. The woman looked a bit disconcerted at Luna's behaviour, following her progress past over her spectacles with obvious perplexity at the strange girl's levity. Hermione just nodded to her embarrassedly, following Luna over to the staircase and making her way down at a more sedate pace, and then through the small in-house bookshop underneath in which they sold their own publications.

"They work you too hard in there," Luna stated simply, after they had exited the office out into the cold crisp air of Diagon Alley and were walking briskly up the street side by side towards the other end of the Alley. A multitude of new shops had broken out in the last few years. Luna's shop was just one of the ones that had opened to fill the many vacated and boarded up shops that had hastily closed during the war, bringing a fresh life to the street. They came level with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and peered inside but it didn't look like George or any of the other Weasleys were there, so they carried on without entering. By common consensus they found themselves walking to the new café just past Luna's shop that sold a number of the pastries that Hermione was rather fond of. Luna was always happy to go there, having struck up a friendship with the owner Nell. She had been a cheerful Hufflepuff in the year above Hermione's own, but neither of them had come to know her until after they left Hogwarts. They took up places on stools along the bar and Luna started chatting merrily to Nell as they made their selections from the counter.

Hermione chose a pastry and started nibbling on it absently as she let Luna and Nell's conversation wash over her, not really paying attention. Her mind was still on the leather book that she had secreted away in her bag. Maybe she would manage to wrap up her work early that afternoon and go home a bit sooner, and then she could have some time to sort some more of it out that evening.

"Hmm?" she asked, breaking out of her private reverie as she realised that Luna had spoken directly to her and had been looking at her a bit critically, obviously aware that she hadn't really been at all with her. "Sorry," she blushed, "what was it you asked?"

"It's alright, I know how easy it is to get caught up in your own daydreams," Luna said in a thoroughly dreamy voice of her own, as if she just might at any second. "I just asked you if you've heard from Neville recently. He said he was going to try to locate some dragonspore for me but I haven't gotten a floo or an owl from him in a while,"

"Oh!" Hermione shook her head, getting her thoughts level with the conversation again quickly, "I haven't since I got that last package of notes from him, actually, no. I'm sure he is just caught up with his work, again; to be honest I think he loses track of the time when he's all alone just cataloguing those plants. Not that he minds it, it's good that he finds it so fascinating,"

"Yes, he really loves his botany," Luna mused.

Nell had wondered off to the other end of the counters to serve some other customers.

"I'm sure he'll be in touch soon, anyway," Hermione reassured her friend.

They spent some time discussing what everyone had been up to. Luna had heard from an old Ravenclaw friend, Mandy Brocklehurst, that Professor Flitwick was finally taking his retirement from teaching at Hogwarts with the end of the year. This surprised Hermione, who had never really considered that he might soon be giving it up, never mind his age.

"Yes, so apparently it's all over the ministry that McGonagall will soon be posting for a new Charms teacher," Luna informed her, wide-eyed.

"I'm sure he'll be missed," Hermione remarked.

"Maybe you should apply for the position, Hermione," Luna mused.

"What? Why me?" Hermione asked, astonished. "I have a perfectly good job already, Luna, and a very busy one at that," she continued, in an almost reprimanding voice. "I'm sure they'll have dozens of applicants for a job like that,"

"Yes, but you'd be so good at teaching," Luna carried on, "and I know you're not happy at the moment," she continued, sounding more and more pleased with her idea.

Hermione frowned. Luna seemed very assured of the fact that Hermione was unhappy. And she had to admit to herself, she wasn't exactly at her best these days, but it was just that loneliness she'd been thinking about earlier; not because she was unsatisfied with her _job._ It was just because their friends were all away and busy and she was missing them, like Luna.

"I'll admit that I've always like the idea of teaching as a profession," Hermione replied to her friend's eager face, "I'm sure it would be very rewarding, in fact; but I'm not looking for a career change, Luna,"

"I expect you're right," Luna looked a bit disappointed, but dropped the subject nonetheless. After that she went on to eagerly trying to persuade her friend to accompany her on a spot of shopping so that she could purchase some more supplies for her shop. Hermione tried to tell her she needed to get back to work, but the girl was irrepressible, and Hermione soon found herself conceding defeat to her and allowing her to drag her off for another hour. It's not like she really wanted to get back to proof reading that awful botany guide, anyway.

* * *

><p>Hermione browsed the shelves at the back of the dusty sunlit shop, waiting for Luna to finish haggling with the old proprietress. They'd gone to a shop that Hermione had never been in before; it seemed to be into the mismatched selling of everything, from potion ingredients to antiques, instruments and second-hand books. Hermione, no surprises, had gravitated towards the books. She was just scanning the spines half-heartedly, really wishing she could hurry Luna up and get out of there. It was already much later than she liked and there was no way she was going back to the office now; the manuscript could wait. She just wanted to be out of there so that she could go home early; she patted the purse absently, mind on the prized tome tucked safely away inside it's depths.<p>

It was then that she spotted a dusty purple spine embossed with shining silver letters; the letters that caught her attention. She peered closer and lifted it off the shelf. It's title read, 'Theories of Time-Turners.' More than a little intrigued, she flipped it open immediately and began poring over the pages of the book. It was unlike anything she had ever heard of before. It had never really caught her notice that she had only ever read passing or vague references to the makings of Time-Turners before in magical practice; but this book was full of complex theories on their making and how they actually worked.

She was stunned. All she really knew about them before was how heavily they were regulated and restricted; and that since that Ministry's store had been destroyed by her, Harry and the others all those years ago in the department of mysteries, it had been reported that no more were to be made on the grounds of their unsafe nature. Surely a book like this wouldn't be allowed to just be in common circulation, to be picked up anybody with a passing fancy?

Hermione was just debating the book and whether she could in all seriousness really leave it there in the store, as dangerous a topic as it was, when Luna called her to attention. It seemed she was done and was now ready to leave. Making a snap decision, Hermione held her find firmly in her hand and went over to pay for it at the counter. Besides it's controversial nature, it was bound to be a fascinating read.

She was a bit nervous about even handing the book over to the old woman to buy it from her, lest she say something about it and decide not to sell it, but she didn't even bother to glance at the title as she packed it in brown paper for her and Hermione handed over the money. Hermione inwardly sighed in relief and took the proffered package quickly as soon as it was offered, making sure to put it away safely in her purse with the leather bound journal, before she followed Luna.

* * *

><p>When she finally reached the safe confines of her apartment late that afternoon, Hermione felt a sense of relief. Luna had been a welcome company for a change, but she was exhausted by the effort of social interaction and longed for some time in reflection and solitude. Tired, she pulled her sleek brown hair back from her face and twisted it, setting it back into an elegant chignon as she walked into the comfortable living area.<p>

As soon as she sat down she pulled out the two books from her purse and laid them down before her on the coffee table. Deciding to save the new discovery for perusal another time, she picked up the by now familiar leather journal instead and unwound the bindings to open it.

Her hand moved across the crisp first page in an almost loving caress. She read the neat, handwritten markings as she did every time she opened the journal. _The Journal and Work of Severus Snape, Professor of Potions. _

Sighing sadly, she flipped through the journal until she found her place from the last time she had been sorting through the book.

McGonagall had given it to her after the war; she had just turned up at the office one day about a year after Hermione had started working there, saying that she hoped Hermione could put it to a better use than anyone else, and that she didn't think Severus would have minded. Of course, Hermione had only understood exactly why she had given it to _her_ later on once she had read it. Snape's journal was a mix of private thoughts, potions recipes and unique spell work, just as the half-blood prince's textbook had been that he had written in as a child. It seemed that he had never given up the habit. All of his research, his private thoughts, his emotions- those private parts made for uncomfortable reading, and she had flicked past most of them, not able to intrude on his privacy even after death- but all of the unique work that he had invented and transcribed and never shared; that was the part that she found fascinating and that McGonagall had meant for her to have. Because she could do something with it.

It had been her greatest ambition for a while now to organise all of this portion into a work that could be published and put to use by the wizarding community. She felt that it was the least she could do for a man that had died in the line of the cause for good, while the whole wizarding community had feared him and thought the very worst of him, and so wrongly. He was the very best of all of them, she realised later; the one who had been the most loyal and devoted to the side of good, yet the one who had been suspected and been left all alone to deal with the tasks Dumbledore had left him, without a friend to turn to. How had he carried such burdens?

He deserved to be remembered for the brilliant man he was, and sadly, even now that man was overlooked and forgotten, despite them all now knowing what Harry had told them of his true allegiance. But not by her.

"I was so scared of you, once," she uttered softly, smiling ruefully at the little journal as if it was the man himself. "If only I could see you again now; how different things would be knowing who you are. You never deserved to die."

* * *

><p>Hermione sifted through the information as she made her notes, copying out sections and sorting them into categories of spells and potions to one day make up part of an ordered manuscript. She couldn't help but be absorbed by some parts of the text, reading his method and marvelling at his ingenuity in places. She never thought of working this way- of creating completely new pieces of magic through trial and error- she had only ever been about doing things by the book- by other people's books, that is. She read about how to do things and then learned them, but she'd never created her own. Even now, he was teaching her things from beyond the grave.<p>

She kept this up until, with a start, she realised that it was already past ten at night. How had time flown by so quickly? Rubbing her eyes, she realised how exhausted she was again. Time to go to bed. She tried to gather up the notes she'd made that night, to place them with all her others that she'd already taken, but she'd somehow managed to spread them about half the room, and there was lots of other papers and manuscripts lying about; she'd have to sort out this mess tomorrow. She left the stack she had collected so far with the journal on the coffee table. That's when she saw the purple timeturner book again. That thing could be put away on her shelves, though. She didn't want it lying around, even if it was in the safety of her own apartment. So she picked that one up and put it safely away on her vast shelves before going to bed.

* * *

><p>It wasn't morning yet.<p>

Something had woken Hermione from the deep sleep that she had quickly fallen in to, but she couldn't tell what it was in the pitch black of her bed chamber right away. She lay still and tried to place it. There was no noise that she could discern above the regular pace of her own heartbeat, but somehow she could sense that something was wrong, and it was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end in apprehension.

There was someone standing at the foot of her bed, watching her. The certainty rose up within her with absolute clarity, and she was frozen in terror for a moment as she thought furiously, weighing her options. How far away was her wand? She knew it was on the bedside table in clear reach but if she made a sudden lunge for it would she have the time to get it before she was attacked? It couldn't be guessed at, but presumably the intruder still thought her asleep at the moment. Would it be better to reach for it slowly in the darkness until she could inch it toward her, and then attack? How had anyone even been able to get in? She decided in a heartbeat to go with all her courage and just lunge for the wand to defend herself with. She couldn't bear the suspense of the second option; she might be attacked at any moment. She threw herself towards the cabinet on which she had left her wand, reaching blindly for it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Granger," a silkily smooth voice rang out in the silence, almost making her jump out of her skin with fright. It was spoken extremely softly and quietly, but in the complete dead of the apartment it sounded like the most resonating, plangent tones. "Do not fret, I do not plan on attacking you," it spoke again.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. It was impossible. She had never thought she would hear that voice again. It sounded so like him. Was she still asleep, or was it just that this stranger was so similar in voice that it reminded her of another?

She definitely felt awake.

Then it was the second. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She took a shaky breath and summoned the courage to answer the beautiful silky voice.

"Who are you?" she could hear her own voice come out timid and shaky, but there was no helping that now. She tried to summon a bit of that assertive Gryffindor courage from deep within her to face the voice.

"You already know me," was his simple reply, as if that should solve everything. A sudden blaze of light appeared from the direction of the stranger, filling the room.

Hermione blinked back stars, completely unable to see in the sudden shift from absolute black to absolute light. It took at least a minute for her eyes to adjust, and all the while she was blinking up at the stranger, desperate to see his face and glean his identity, for until then her apprehension and fright towards the intruder would not go away.

Slowly, he swam into sharper and sharper focus, but reality swam further and further away.

She gasped in horror; she could do nothing other than shut her eyes again in forceful adamance against the truth of what her eyes were telling her.

"That can't be," her voice shook even more, "You're dead," she opened her eyes wide, staring at him with disbelief.

"It appears not," his deathly quiet voice replied smoothly, refuting her. He took a step closer to her, round the end of her bed. She scrambled to pull herself upright, her eyes never leaving his face – his face, undeniably his. How could it be true?

"B...but I was there," she stammered, "I saw you die, I saw your body." There was really no way around it. He couldn't be here now, not after all these years, and the memory still as fresh as yesterday.

His face was unreadable, a emotionless, pale mask with glittering pools of darkest onyx staring back at her, a flesh and blood, breathing contradiction.

"A clever trick, of your own design," he murmured.

Severus Snape was standing in her bedroom, and he was very much alive.

* * *

><p><em>Dun dun dun….<em> To be continued. Please review this if you can find the time, and thank you for reading. I'll try and post the next part soon.


	2. Revelation

AN- Thank you so much to the reception my first chapter received, I can't tell you how much it meant to me that each of you that took the time to review it did so. Consequently, I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to post this following chapter. Ironically, I had nearly all of it written about a week after I posted chapter 1, but I really struggled with finishing off the conversation, it felt like I was choreographing it with all these important elements too quickly and had pretty much decided not to continue with it. But, I can't just leave it and I've finally picked it up again, and thank you to every review or follow that pinged into my inbox, for making me feel guilty enough to come back to it, because I have enjoyed writing the first part immensely, and hopefully I can get into a regular writing pace again now. Disclaimer- i don't own anything you may recognise!

* * *

><p><strong>Resurrection Snape<strong>

**Chapter 2 – Revelation**

"That can't be," her voice shook even more, "You're dead," she opened her eyes wide, staring at him with disbelief.

"It appears not," his deathly quiet voice replied smoothly, refuting her. He took a step closer to her, round the end of her bed. She scrambled to pull herself upright, her eyes never leaving his face – his face, undeniably his. How could it be true?

"B...but I was there," she stammered, "I saw you die, I saw your body." There was really no way around it. He couldn't be here now, not after all these years, and the memory still as fresh as yesterday.

His face was unreadable, an emotionless, pale mask with glittering pools of darkest onyx staring back at her, a flesh and blood, breathing contradiction.

"A clever trick, of your own design," he murmured.

Severus Snape was standing in her bedroom, and he was very much alive.

* * *

><p>"Of my own- what are you talking about?" Hermione implored. As if in a daze, she found herself scrambling out of the tangle of sheets around her legs and inching towards him, hardly even of her own volition. He was still just gazing back at her, that resolute, undecipherable mask on his face, hiding his thoughts. She still couldn't believe that this was real. Hermione reached out a hand and, ever so tentatively, placed it on his chest.<p>

Jumping in fright, she snatched her hand back straight away, feeling the real, solid form of the man in front of her. The mask broke briefly as his mouth crept up in a curve, his eyes glinting in amusement. "I'm not a ghost, no," he affirmed, those silky lustrous tones ringing out again, caressing her ears. He slowly reached out for the hand she had drawn back in front of her, hesitating as he watched her face, like he was concerned with frightening her further with any sudden movements. Slowly, gently, he took her hand in his own. She flinched a little as the warm, solid flesh met hers, still surprised, but controlled herself and allowed him as he slowly placed it back on his chest, over his heart. He held it there, so she could feel the hammering of his heart.

Fascinated, she stared at their intertwined hands on his chest, and felt the steady beat of life and the warmth of his skin press through the fabric of his shirt. Flesh and blood proof of life. She looked back up into his eyes, and found him watching her.

"Do you still doubt my existence?" He asked her softly, his gaze not leaving hers. He freed his grasp on her wrist. Trance like, instead of removing her hand from his body she shifted it up and delicately brushed his cheek with the tips of her fingers. His eyes shut with a shiver but he didn't brush her away. Suddenly she realised exactly what she was doing and how inappropriate it was.

She gulped and let her hand drop, shaking her head. "No," she confirmed, blushing.

"But you don't understand it- you don't remember anything?" he asked crisply, breaking his gaze away suddenly and turning his back on her, taking a step away. He sounded insistent, and almost pained.

"Remember- remember what?" Hermione asked, confused. "If you're still alive- how are you still alive?" she asked, incredulously. He wasn't making any sense, and she could hardly wrap her head around his simple presence as it was. Then another thought occurred to her and she blurted that out too, before she could stop herself. "and why are you _here?_ Of all places, why have you come to see _me?"_

He gave a deep sigh and she was surprised how very weary he sounded. He didn't turn back around to face her. "I've come too early; I've revealed myself to you too soon," he muttered lowly, and it sounded like he was talking more to himself than he was to her. "You haven't gone yet. I was hoping… I thought something had changed. I must have been wrong."

"I'm sorry?" Hermione pressed, mystified. "Wrong about what? Where haven't I gone yet?"

He was silent for a minute, and she was seriously doubting that he was planning on answering her at all, when he turned back around to face her. She watched him, suspenseful.

"I suppose I have no choice now but to give you answers," he observed silkily, not sounding too happy about that fact. "I had been hoping that by coming here tonight the reverse might be true, and you would give me _my _answers, but I'll have to settle for what little you might know as you are,"

"give _you _answers? What answers could _you _possibly need?" She muttered despairingly, feeling a vague light-headedness. This couldn't seriously be actually happening. This must still be a dream. She turned and plopped back down on top of the bed, and went back to staring at him. He was somehow, exactly the same as she remembered. Semi-long rich black hair cascaded around his face in a messy, untidy mop. What she had never noticed before then, however, was the way it framed his face and those sculpted cheekbones, making him look actually rather handsome if you got over his cutting gaze; for it was the penetrating eyes at dark as midnight that really made his presence; portraying intellect or inspiring fear as they so chose. They captivated and intimidated.

He softly uttered something, that sounded like "Why me?" but she couldn't be sure. Then his voice grew loud and sharp again as he addressed her, "You still ask too many questions, Miss Granger,"

Hermione made a strangled noise and started in an affronted manner, "You're the one who pops up all _alive_ in _my bedroom _in the middle of the night and refuses to-"

"Miss Granger, do desist from arguing and questioning for just one minute and I will tell you a story that will answer everything your curiosity burns to know," Snape cut her off firmly.

She gaped at him and mouthed wordlessly for a second before realising how ridiculous she must look, and shut her mouth firmly, glaring at him to continue.

He gave his second deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes clenched tightly shut. "I believe that your first question that needs to be addressed was; the simple and obvious one; how am I still alive?"

She nodded her assent, her curiosity on that, the most burning question at the moment, overrode everything else.

"Quite simply, and there is no other way to say this I suppose; it is because you saved me."

She stared at him as he looked at her gravely, no hint of jest in his jet black eyes. "I didn't do any such-"

"Maybe not yet," he interjected. "But you will, I believe," his voice grew quiet as he spoke each word carefully, slowly, gauging her reaction to them. "and that is why I came to you, _of all the people. _Answering another point, I think."

"I don't understand." Hermione didn't say that very often, and it was grating to have to say it to this man of all people; the infuriating professor who had never acknowledged her intelligence or ability; but he wasn't giving her much in the way of answers here- if he thought these riddles were going to cut it-

"You came to me and you told me how to save my life."

"When did I do this exactly?" Hermione countered, sure he must have lost his mind in the years since he had, well _disappeared, _it now seemed.

"You told me that I needed to live," Snape carried on as if ignoring her question. His piercing black eyes were boring into hers like _he_ was trying to find the answers- not her. It was unsettling, how very intent those deep dark eyes were on her, trying to understand her. He'd never looked at her like that before.

She didn't know how to respond to it- to any of it. She sat there and hoped he'd continue.

Snape heaved a belaboured breath and suddenly moved across to sit himself in the armchair she had placed underneath the window. It was a favourite position of hers for reading. She didn't object, just let him get settled with a kind of fascination at seeing him there, making himself at home in her room.

"It was the day before the battle- the final battle that would end it all," he began, fulfilling her desire to explain. "I was in my office; by which I mean the headmasters office at Hogwarts," he clarified, before carrying on; "I was talking to Albus's portrait, as I often did, begging him for guidance," he paused, looking at her significantly, "when you appeared to me, Hermione."

She gaped at him. What- he was having daydreams about her, or fantasies of the future like Trelawney? She almost snorted derisively; for Severus Snape was the very last person she would have expected to claim to have 'visions' like Trelawney. The only thing that stopped her from doing this, in fact, was her surprise at hearing him call her Hermione. It was the first time that he had done that, too. If this was indeed Severus Snape, then this was certainly a different side to him than the ones she had seen as a student.

"I don't mean like that," he rolled his eyes, and her eyes shot back over to him; she gaped. Was he reading her mind, now?

"I don't need to employ means to read your mind, Miss Granger, when everything that you think and feel is written so clearly on your face," he cut sharply, coldly. First name basis lasted a long time then. She frowned. This was disconcerting.

"Stop doing that," she snapped. "Tell me what you do mean then. How could I have 'appeared' to you as you put it-"

"Well stop jumping to narrow-minded conclusions, then, please. You appeared to me, and you – you had the substance of a ghost, yet you were real, very real; it was no figment of my imagination. You spoke, and your voice sounded… like echoes; not really a true voice."

"What did I say?"

"You told me that you were from the future." He said simply.

This time she really did snort.

"I said no narrow-minded conclusions," Snape reprimanded, looking stern. Somehow this didn't have the same effect it would have done to her as a child; he didn't terrify her like he did then. "You know that time travel is possible, you yourself have done it before, if I remember correctly? You soon proved your claim."

"…and just how did I do that?" she asked scornfully, crossing her arms and settling back against the headboard, opposing him in her challenging stance. She tried not to feel intimidated by his glare.

"You told me what was going to happen the next day, and exactly what I had to do to be alive at the end of it. I didn't understand all of your instructions, then, not until later; but the important part is this; everything your apparition told me came to pass. It was real," he enforced the meaning of his words on her with his eyes.

"B…but I didn't do any of this!" she gasped, her mind reeling.

"If it truly was a future-you," he cut in quickly, "which I believe that it was, then we have not caught up with that future yet," he explained. It has yet to come to pass for you, rather it is something that you will do."

Hermione shook her head, trying to sort it all out so that it would make sense. "What exactly did this ghost-me tell you to do that could possibly account for the fact that I _saw you, saw your body _after…after…" she struggled with the words, seeing flashes of his very real corpse lying bloody and vacant on the floor in front of her and Harry. It had been horrible; too much to bear; too much to think on even now.

In a flash that she missed entirely for the tears clouding her eyes suddenly he was out of the chair and in front of her, kneeling at the side of the bed instead. He took the hands she had been wringing in her lap in his strong, large ones. She gasped and pulled back a bit in face of his sudden proximity, but her hands stayed where they were encircled in his grasp, which was strong and unyielding. His pulse felt so vital and his hands were almost burning with heat against her own. "It wasn't me, Hermione," he murmured softly, "It wasn't real, thanks to you."

A shock went through her at his reassuring words; Snape was comforting her. He was _touching _her.

"Then who was it, if not you? Because it _did _happen, it _was _real."

"Well… Yes." He confirmed, not pulling away. A bitter look crossed over his face as if he had just tasted something nasty. "It was Dolohov that you saw die that day, Hermione. I gave him a Polyjuice Potion once I had him under the imperious curse, as you told me to do."

There was a pregnant pause as this sunk in and then she gave a horrified squeak. I told you to… to…"

"He was a Death Eater Hermione, that would have murdered who knows how many of your friends if he'd fought in that battle. And no, you didn't specify who it should be to take my place. That is on my own hands alone."

"That still doesn't make it right," she whispered. "But you're right; if it meant saving your life or someone elses.. and having one less death eater at the final battle..."

"It was your plan," he agreed solemnly. "But I'm the one that went through with it. And I'm sure we saved other lives besides mine by taking him out of the picture."

"Tell me… tell me the rest of it," Hermione implored. Her mind was working overtime with all the things she had witnessed that day, that she knew had happened that his death had been instrumental in; "That can't be everything; the memories; the ones that Harry took from you as you lay dying. Your wand- he must have had it, too; you must have had to hand it over so that Voldemort would believe the lie… You're a skilled enough Occlumens that it wouldn't be strange that he couldn't read you… the memories are the real glitch in the story," she concluded. "That and the fact that I've never even heard of any kind of magic that could make me appear to you as a ghost that far back in the past and tell you these things… is that even possible?"

"It happened. There's no refuting the possibility." Snape snapped, leaving no room for argument against his own senses. She huffed and crossed her arms.

"As for the wand…"

Hermione looked up at him, surprised that he was actually going to answer some of her speculations.

"you told me that he _had_ to have my wand. That was one of the most important things. Even if it hadn't been necessary for the upkeep of illusion. So I switched wands with Dolohov after I knocked him unconscious. I used his own wand on him to perform the imperious, and made him wield mine."

"And the memories?" she prompted further, eager for him not to clam up and stop explaining.

"Your instructions were to copy all of my memories relating to Harry and Lily and deposit them into the surface of Dolohov's imperioused mind. I didn't like that part. I didn't want to part with them to the trusting of a mind I despised, for whatever purpose. But you said that without all your instructions being followed to the letter, the defeat of the Dark Lord might not succeed or I might still die. So I did as you asked, though it pained me."

Hermione's mind was reeling with all the information- the very _unlikely _information that was apparently a clever deception that she and him had set up.

"But.. ok, but I still don't understand how the most important part could be achieved," she argued. "The going back in time that far, and not even corporeally… Time-Turners couldn't achieve that; and time would just have to play out again until you caught up with the time you left, literally _years _being replayed-"

"It's dangerous even turning back an hour with a Time-Turner," Snape agreed. "The consequences of going further back are almost unthinkable… having to replay time, all the while avoiding your double… I honestly don't know how you managed that part. It seems your future self must have found a way to send a part of themselves back only, like a message- but don't ask me how. If anyone could achieve it; though; I would never have been surprised to find that it was you, my most brilliant student."

Hermione blushed. Was that seriously a compliment from _him_? True, she had always admired him and found _him _brilliant, especially after she had acquired his diary and had spent all that time recently sifting through his personal research, but for him to praise her in return as his most brilliant student? He had never indicated that he felt anything but derision for her 'insufferable' self in the classroom. She pushed that aside for the moment, too intent on the seemingly impossible yet wondrous story he was telling her. It was still difficult to view this as nothing other than an extremely captivating dream. She really wanted to pinch herself, but she didn't want to look that idiotic in front of Snape if this was real, and she didn't really want to wake up if it wasn't.

"Can this still be considered me saving you, if you're telling me all this; or are you saving yourself?" she questioned, her mind working furiously. "If I already know how you achieved it because you told me-"

Snape was shaking his head, already anticipating the end of her thought before she finished articulating it. "It had to have happened once, before you saved me, you coming up with all of this and working out how to tell me, for me to be here and for it to become a self-fulfilling circle. It is still you who saved my life."

Hermione looked away from his gaze, unable to meet those eyes anymore. She hadn't had any part in it. It felt awkward, him thanking her. It hadn't happened yet! Not for her, even if she believed all this. Somehow, he was alive in front of her at this very moment; that was the physical evidence. But had it really been by her hand- _would _it really be by her hand, rather- that it was achieved?

"Besides," he added, drawing away, "you can't act on anything I've told you if you can't remember my presence here tonight come morning."

"What?" she almost yelled, jumping up in fright and away from him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said calmly, drawing up to face her, "that I'm going to break the circle. You were wrong, Miss Granger. Ever since I cheated death that day I've been living a half-life, an existence without meaning. I thank you for your efforts in giving me a second chance to live, but you were wrong. I don't need to live; not anymore. I fulfilled the only thing I was still living for with the resolution of that battle in which I should have died."

"You can't seriously… you don't want me to save you?" she almost choked. She had hardly even resolved his wild story as being possibly true in her sleep-hazed mind and he was already yanking it all away from her again.

"You don't seem to realise how dangerous what you achieved _is, _should it ever fall into the wrong hands," he spat. "I'd gladly give my life to stop such a possibility as _time_ being rewritten from falling into the hands of the wrong people. Can you imagine- nothing would ever be resolute or bound in stone. The past could become as loosely bound together as the future, and none of us would be safe," he argued.

She stared in terror of the picture he painted before him, even as she marvelled at the succinct eloquence of his argument. This was the reason that Time-Turners were all but outlawed, and that, even then, you were bound by the finite way in which they worked from going back too far and changing too much. Would she really flout so many rules to rescue one man? Even one brilliant, unsung man?

"But, why did you bother to tell me all this if you're just going to take it all away from me again?" she asked desperately, struggling to her feet. She went to grasp her wand; she wasn't letting him take her memories. Before she could snatch it from the cabinet, however, she found his own wand trained back on her as it had been when she first woke. She lowered her outstretched arm slowly, watching him with apprehension. Such a look of sneering contempt was painted on his face.

"There's one thing I need to understand from you before I leave," He said silkily. "The thing I came here for in the first place; and you can't answer it unless you understand. That is why I have explained this to you," He grabbed her shoulders and held her roughly so that she would face him as he asked his all-important question. "Why me? Why, of all the people who you could have gone back and saved, would you have chosen me?"

She gazed back at him, frozen.

Why him? It was a glaringly obvious question. If everything he said was true, and she had the opportunity to go back and change things; to save a life; why would she save him and not… not Fred, or Tonks, or one of the other countless people they had lost over the course of the war? Why not all of them? She did wish he hadn't died; she wished it every time she read from his journal, but…

"I don't know," she breathed, truthfully, breathlessly going with her thoughts and stumbling to explain them, "I mean, I have your journal, and when I read it I often wish you were still here, but it hasn't actually happened yet, so how am I supposed to know what _will _influence me to do something I may or may _not_ do-"

"Wait. You have my journal?" His brow furrowed. "Why do you have it?"

"I… McGonagall gave it to me, after you… you know," she ended awkwardly, looking down at the floor.

"After I died, right." He gave a rueful smirk. "Why the hell would Minerva give my _personal Journal _to a student, though?" He sounded vaguely upset. His wand was still trained on her but he seemed to have forgotten about attacking her in light of her revelation. She decided to keep him talking.

"I…." This made her extremely nervous to have to explain all of a sudden. It was his diary, for Merlin's sake, full of his private thoughts, and she had thought he was dead.

She just sighed and braved it out. "I work for Obscurus Books; the publishers?"

He frowned but nodded.

"I think McGonagall gave it to me because she saw the same thing in it that I see; and she wanted me to do something about it," she ploughed on.

It was Snape's turn to be surprised.

"You were going to _publish _me?" he scowled and folded his arms, looking slightly like a petulant child for a second.

"Well, I mean, your work is… quite frankly, well, brilliant," she blushed a brilliant scarlet at admitting this to him.

He blinked in astonishment.

"Oh… I didn't read much of your diary-entries, it… it felt like an intrusion, but I couldn't help reading… pieces," she admitted also.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face. She held her breath for the explosion of fury and anger that was bound to be coming her way.

"I see."

She waited with baited breath for more, but he didn't continue. Just a cold air and pursed lips as he stood there stiffly.

"I'm sorry."

There was a very pregnant pause while she waited for him to acknowledge her apology.

"It's alright, you thought I was dead," he muttered. "Do you think I could have it returned to me, now, however?"

Hermione's first feeling was upset at the thought of parting with it, but she quickly berated herself for thinking that way; of course it was his; of course it should be returned to him now that he was miraculously back. It certainly had no place with her.

But-

"You're planning on obliviating my memories," she said bluntly. "…and you somehow think that by doing this and taking the diary; that which may eventually have caused me to devise a way to go back in time and save you; that you will prevent any of it from happening, and effectively cease to be once more…"

He gazed back at her in a stoic defiance, clearly not believing that he owed her an explanation of his actions. His wand was trained unerringly on her, and he had always had a forbidding and threatening air; one which had suddenly increased again. She swallowed at the intimidating, towering _presence _of him as he scowled at her words, every bit the professor of her childhood, that she had both feared and admired, and at different times hated and defended.

"That…that's_"_

_Suicidal. _She didn't finish aloud, unable to say it to him. Was he really so unhappy, so beyond the possibility of living a life beyond the duties that had sustained him through the war, the duties to a long-dead love that were all that had held him together for so long? Harry had told her a little about the memories that he had acquired from the dying Snape, enough to know the reasons he had protected her friend, and joined their cause, and lived. And occasionally, while perusing his journal and diary, she could not help but glimpse an often–repeated word as she hastily leafed past a diary-entry, _Lily…_

She didn't know what to say to him, but felt desperate to say _something _to him, anything that might well, both _absolve _her from some of the pain and guilt and responsibility she was now feeling for him and on his behalf, as well as to make him see, with the fierceness she felt in her own heart, that he couldn't just _give up _on life; that he _needed to live, _that _she needed him to live. _

"You said I told you that you needed to live,"

He glared at her and bit out a short reply.

"Yes."

"You've been hanging on to life to ask me _why, _to figure out why you were saved and given another chance."

It wasn't really a question that needed an answer, like her last; it was a statement of fact. He didn't answer again, just looked moodily at the wall next to her, in quiet assent.

"Well, You can't just take away my memories and stop it from happening, you can't just _give up_!" she broke out forcefully, angrily. "I might not have saved you yet but I can't imagine I just did it for no reason," she argued tartly. "I'm not letting you take your life, which is, essentially, what you are doing."

He was staring at her in, well, in both anger and shock, and something else, she thought. Gone was the controlled, icy Snape of most of her memories.

Tersely, she slipped past him into the living room, though not before subtly slipping her wand from the cabinet behind her when he had looked away from her in his obviously irate state. He didn't even make a move to stop her; it was like her words had angered him so much that they'd frozen him into place. The journal was exactly where she had left it, sitting on top of her pile of notes in the centre of the coffee table. She grabbed it up and turned back, only to find that he had, actually, followed her out.

Suddenly she was rather conscious of the state of her undress; something she had not really managed to think about thus far, but since he had accosted her in the middle of her sleep, she was now rather embarrassed to find that she was facing him, her most intimidating school-time professor, dark and malevolent, _and not dead,_ in just her nightgown. Certainly not a situation she had ever envisaged herself being in.

Clearing her throat self-consciously they eyed each other, and then Hermione held out the journal for him to take. He inched closer to her, looking just as uncomfortable as she felt, taking it from her outstretched arm.

"Thank you," he whispered stiffly.

"So you suppose I should just…_have faith_, that I am meant to live," he said stiffly -and incredulously, like it was so hard. Hermione wanted very much to roll her eyes at him but refrained- that wouldn't do at all, only anger and push him.

"Yes, I want you to have faith in your existence, and not erase my memories, and be grateful for second chances," she matched his calm tone, but with less of the stiffness. They were talking about his bloody _life, _here! He wanted to just throw it all away, and stop her from helping him.

"You want me to have faith in _you. _In your word that I'm meant to live."

"That's what you've been doing all this time, up till now, isn't it? Come on, has life really been that bad these past few years? The war is over, and you survived it. No more death eaters, no more fear and hurt and having to play spy…"

"But I wasn't _supposed _to survive it," he whispered hoarsely. "and how is anyone supposed to go back to normal after all that? I can hardly remember what normal was like."

Hermione stared at him in grief and sympathy for him, unable to know what to tell him.

"What…. What's happened to you since the war ended? Where have you been?" she asked hesitantly, aware that he was being fairly open with her, but reluctant to ask him since he probably wouldn't want to discuss it- it would probably just make him clam up again. But she had to know.

She stared at him as he eyed her suspiciously, uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other. She didn't think that she had ever seen him so… uncomposed. It looked like he was trying to decide whether to answer her; clearly he didn't confide in people, but clearly, he needed to.

"Severus…" she whispered softly, wanting to reach out towards him but definitely not having the courage to actually go that far.

He flinched at the sound of her whispering his name, however, as if she really had reached out and touched him.

"None of that matters," he snapped icily, "as I said before, this magic can _never, _be invented," he put so much emphasis on the word never, and so much vehemence behind it, that she couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't even respond out of her frozen state as he raised his wand for the final time that night and spoke the fateful word.

"_Obliviate."_

His thoughts as he watched her eyes glaze over dispassionately rang only with 'It's for your own good, Hermione."

* * *

><p>Well, that's that. Please tell me what you thought. Don't be afraid to be critical, I welcome all comments! I wouldn't be surprised if you all start pointing out a plot hole or two now that I'm beginning to explain all the questions I brought up with the return of Snape. This is the inherent problem when you start messing with time-theories and linking your plot closely to the books; it quickly gets complicated and there's plenty of room to trip up, *sigh*, so if I <em>have <em>overlooked something, please let me know so that I can frantically try to fix my plot! Ch.3, Memorybank, will be up shortly with any luck this time.


	3. Memorybank

AN- Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter! Sorry this was a fortnight instead of a week; it was a busy fortnight. I went to see the final instalment of Harry Potter at the cinema yesterday though, finally. Lots of lovely Snape :) Disclaimer- I don't own this!

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 3 – Memorybank**

"Severus…" she whispered softly, wanting to reach out towards him but definitely not having the courage to actually go that far.

He flinched at the sound of her whispering his name, however, as if she really had reached out and touched him.

"None of that matters," he snapped icily, "as I said before, this magic can _never, _be invented," he put so much emphasis on the word never, and so much vehemence behind it, that she couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't even respond out of her frozen state as he raised his wand for the final time that night and spoke the fateful word.

"_Obliviate."_

His thoughts as he watched her eyes glaze over dispassionately rang only with 'It's for your own good, Hermione."

* * *

><p>Severus was very sorry for what he had just had to do. But she had left him no choice; she could not be trusted not to use the information he had given her or to use his journal to repeat everything all over and rescue him again, and he couldn't let that happen this time around.<p>

He dreaded to think of what might happen to her if anyone was to find out what she had created- once she had actually created it, that is. There were still Death Eaters out there on the loose, for Merlin's sake. If they found out… if they used it to resurrect their precious Dark Lord… he shuddered at the thought. It was one thing using it to resurrect him; quite another if it fell into the wrong hands. He couldn't be responsible for that, he couldn't let her rescue him out of the goodness of her heart or whatever it was that had made her do it- and he still didn't understand that, by the way- for all the possible consequences it might bring about. It would be all his fault, of course, for he would be the one she had invented it for.

But _why?_ She hadn't been able to give him a satisfactory answer, had just stumbled through her explanations of having his journal and his being a good man who didn't deserve what had happened to him, or some such drivel. But there had been something there, something in the way that she had looked- no, _stared_ at him, which had startled him. Not just like someone who had unexpectedly risen from the dead, not with any kind of fear whatsoever on her face, in fact; neither for her old fears for him and his acidic personality, or for the fact that he was resurrected. Written on her face instead had been some… captivation, that had unnerved him greatly. A captivated, fearless way of staring at him that she had never had before when looking at him. Like she admired him, like none of his caustic personality traits worked on her at all. And she had called him brilliant, hadn't she?

He shook off these disturbing thoughts and returned to the present situation. He was still in Hermione's apartment, after all, and needed to make a clean getaway. After obliviating her, he had made sure to immediately stun her before she could register his presence, and then of course he caught her before she had hit the floor and carried her back into her room, placing her carefully back in her bed. Not because he cared, of course- just because he couldn't have her waking up in the morning with bruises or a bumped head from falling hard on the floor when he stunned her- that would quite negate the point of obliviating her, if he left behind evidence that anything unusual had happened to her the night before. Hopefully she would just chalk up the loss of memories to… well, tiredness or something. Realistically, he knew Hermione, as such a bright witch, would be suspicious about her memory loss, but she would never come up with the truth of the matter, and he just didn't want there to be anything… suspicious. No, he didn't care about her getting hurt, at all. He decided not to think too much about the fact that he had then carefully tucked the sheets around her; because that was clearly also just so that everything would appear normal when she woke. Of course it was.

He had observed her unconscious form a minute before slipping out of the doorway back into the silent living room. The stunner would eventually wear off and then she would just be sleeping, and wake up without memories of the night before; those were the only ones he had taken away. Quite simple, and effective as a way of stopping all the nonsense about rescuing him. With any luck, if she didn't have his journal any longer, she wouldn't later on at some point get the silly notion in her head to begin with. And he would just wait till he simply… ceased to be? He wasn't sure how that would work. If she didn't save him this time around.

Still, he would have to keep a watch over her, to make sure that she didn't pursue it. That stupid spell, or potion, or whatever she had used, was _not _going to get invented, if he had anything to do with it. She would probably worry over losing his journal for a while, and wonder what had happened to it even, but then she would quickly forget all about having had it in her possession for a short while and move on with her life, and probably marry that idiotic Weasley or something; he knew that they had been an item before he had disappeared. And she'd be happy, and she wouldn't worry about the past or unremembered potions masters that didn't deserve her worry anyway.

Now he moved slowly back into the centre of her little living room, with his stealthy, utterly silent movement. He paused as he looked over the coffee table where she had picked up his journal from- the journal he still grasped in his hand. Making an irritated clicking with his tongue, he swept down to pick up a sheaf of papers that must have lain underneath it, observing immediately that they were copied portions of his journal, scribbled notes and observations, and they were catalogued. Could she have any more of these anywhere? Insufferable woman. She just had to make everything more difficult, didn't she? He tried a quick summoning charm for any more notes pertaining to his journal, but nothing came whooshing towards him. He'd just have to assume this was it. He stuffed them deep into his robes.

Sweeping his eyes once more over the cosy space, he sighed and swept over to the fireplace, before he was gone in a swoosh of green flames.

* * *

><p>Hermione sighed and stretched languorously within the tangled up sheets of her bed. Sunlight was filtering in through the slats of the blind at the window, and she had just woken up from a particularly engaging dream. It had been vague, but full of comfort and warm feelings for the person in it; she wasn't sure who he had been, just tall and dark-haired; she didn't think he had had very clear features, but all she had known was that she was filled with the certainty that she was safe with him; that whatever was out there that could harm her, couldn't touch her while he was there. And that she wasn't lonely then. She thought he might have been carrying her somewhere…?<p>

Vaguely she registered that it must be quite late already if the sun was that bright outside, and then she shot upright in bed, trying to clear the fog from her brain and remember what day it was. Why did everything feel so hazy? She put a hand to her forehead and groaned.

No, that's alright, it was Saturday. No reason to be up too early. She sank back onto the pillows, trying to remember what had happened yesterday, though. For some reason her mind felt particularly sluggish this morning. She had been at work, then Luna had come by… the day's events came back to her with clarity. Until she got home… that's when everything started to get a little foggy and she couldn't seem to piece together her evening at all. She couldn't remember falling asleep, or anything that directly led to her waking up this morning. It felt like there was a gaping hole, like something her mind was just slipping past again and again as she tried to recall it; kind of like how she imagined it would feel to be obliviated. No, wait, _exactly _how she imagined it might feel if one was obliviated.

She shot upright in her bed again. What? How could she have been obliviated? That was just silly. Who would possibly want to, and for what? And besides, all she was having difficulty remembering was the time since she had gotten home; safe in her own home, with nobody else about _to _obliviate her. She had plenty of wards, so the idea of someone stealing in and obliviating her was rather absurd. What would they want her to forget? What she had eaten for dinner? She snorted out loud and shook her head as she clambered out of bed and padded into the bathroom to splash some water on her face or something. It was funny though. She would have attributed it to having drunk too much alcohol with anybody else, but she hardly ever drank; she never really developed an interest in the stuff. Must have been working too hard.

Hermione moved slowly through the apartment that morning, mechanically fixing herself breakfast and sitting down on the little sofa with it, mind absent as she puzzled over her fuzzy thoughts. She slowly stretched out her legs to rest on the edge of the coffee table, crossing her ankles as she stared into space. She actually had to shake herself out of her reverie as she heard an impatient knock at the door a little while later.

Who on earth could that be? She still hadn't really registered the time and made a point now to look at the clock on the wall. It was already half past twelve. How on earth had she slept so late? That wasn't like her at all. More disconcerted than ever, she crossed to the door & tapped it with her wand to reveal a little single-way mirror in the wood that showed her the corridor outside. Luna again. Really, who else would it be? All of her other friends had abandoned her, recently, in one form or another. She knew that none of them really meant to, but, they were all so busy these days with their own lives that she hardly ever got to see most of them.

She opened the door and was greeted enthusiastically by a bouncy Luna, who skipped past her into the apartment without waiting for an invitation, and promptly plonked herself down on the nearest chair, humming idly.

"Er, Hi Luna," she greeted the other girl slightly quizzically, and was rewarded promptly by a shift in the girl's gaze to focus on her, and a lazy smile.

"Why are you wearing nightclothes still?" Luna asked her instead of a greeting in return.

Hermione frowned and looked down at herself. "I don't… um… I slept late," she confessed, still confused about everything. When did she ever sleep late enough to still be in her nightclothes past midday? What had happened to her?

"That doesn't happen very often, I see the warglebloom plimps must have gotten to you," Luna observed placidly, curling a single strand of silvery hair about her finger.

"Right…" Hermione hummed shakily, not really feeling the energy to argue with her friend about whatever_ they_ were right now. She gestured vaguely towards the bedroom and started walking towards it, "Um, I was just about to go and change- did you need me for anything in particular…?"

"Oh, not really, I just came to tell you that Ginny is back; I thought you might like to know, that's all,"

"What? Ginny's back? Now? She's here?" Hermione spun around on the spot and stared at her friend.

"Yes, I know, it's all a bit of a surprise, isn't it?" Luna hummed in agreement, smiling genially. "and just yesterday we were saying how we missed her!"

"Why is she back here already, Luna?" Hermione pressed, confused.

"I don't really know; all I know is, that George popped up in my shop this morning to say that Ginny had returned to the Burrow this morning and he thought I might like to know!" Luna grinned brightly, and sprang back up from the chair. "I'm so glad she's back, I've really missed her. Do you want to come over to the Burrow with me? I was about to Apparate over there straight away but then I decided to come here first."

"Thanks Luna, I'd love to come," Hermione smiled genuinely, a little bit of relief pouring over her heart and relaxing her slightly from the jumpy, confused state she had been in ever since waking. Ginny was home. "I'll let you go though and follow you over in about five minutes," she added, "as I still have to get changed and I don't want to keep you waiting around here for me."

"Okay!" Luna bounced, "I'll let them know you're coming," and with that, a resounding pop cracked through the room as Luna vanished off to the Burrow.

Hermione sighed a little breath of relief, calmed back into some semblance of her normal self and a lot happier than she had been lately, knowing that she would soon have her fiery red-headed friend back and that everything would be a bit better again now. Her brain still seemed a little vague and slippy around the missing of something which seemed to instil some kind of natural panic within her; she didn't like to not have full control over her mind, it was disconcerting; but hopefully it would come back to her with a little rest and relaxation. Time to get ready to go to the Burrow. With lightning speed she whipped around the apartment carrying out her morning routine but with unusual velocity, and was very quickly presentable and ready to follow Luna. All that was needed was her purse; where had she put it last night? Damn these sluggish memories…!

Hunting around the living area she finally located the small black clasp-purse behind a cushion on the sofa and sighed in relief, opening it up to thumb through the contents and see that she had everything.

Hermione froze a little. The book… it wasn't in there. Where had she left it? I tiny prickle of agitation at not immediately having it to hand or knowing where it was lodged in her heart and she began to scan the coffee table and the room with her eyes, racking her brain and at the same time cursing it for not being able to provide her with the answers.

"Accio Journal!" She snapped, holding her want aloft to incant the spell.

Nothing happened.

Hermione gave a little squeal of upset frustration and got to her feet, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. Why wasn't it coming? Where could she have put it? Much more agitated now than was probably reasonable to feel for a book, she began ransacking her apartment, turning it upside down in her search for the elusive item. Her belongings were carelessly thrown aside here and there as she looked, but fifteen minutes later had proven no result in finding it.

Running her hands through her hair in despair, she looked over the complete mess she had created and sighed shakily. This didn't feel right. She couldn't remember what had happened to her and now she couldn't find, possibly the most important and precious item she owned. Precious to her- one of a kind, irreplaceable.

What would Severus think if he knew that she had lost his Journal?

No. That was just stupid. Severus Snape was dead. An odd tingle swept through her at that thought, something… disquieting. But she couldn't place it, and trying to push aside her agitation for the moment she attempted to force some kind of calm over herself and grabbed up her purse again. It would wait till later; this mess, and the loss of the journal. For now, she had somewhere to be.

* * *

><p>The Burrow was in uproar. As Hermione arrived outside, at first everything seemed normal. The chickens in the yard squawked noisily from their coop and a ribbon of smoke unfurled from the top of the chimney on the tottering, uneven house. Unlatching the gate, she stepped her way up the path and made for the kitchen door, knowing that this was where she would find the occupants within, no doubt; in Molly's domain. But before she could reach the door, it slammed open from within and a red faced Weasley stormed out. Surprisingly, it was Arthur, and not one of his more volatile offspring; he stopped short when he saw her, however, and tried to compose himself slightly before saying shortly;<p>

"They're in the kitchen. They'll explain," before he apparated away.

Hermione stared after the Weasley patriarch. She didn't ever remember seeing him quite so angry before. It was a moment before she could remember her wits and move herself hurryingly into the kitchen, where most of the other Weasleys were currently ranged, as well as Harry and Luna, all looking rather angry or upset with the sole exception of Luna; who only looked as unaffected as usual; and all were various shades of red or puce. Ginny was absent, and so was Molly, and Charlie, who was still abroad, but everyone else looked to be present. Fleur of course, was probably with the babies. Hermione looked around at them all slightly nervously, trying to work out how to ask what had happened without one of them exploding at her, when Percy spoke tersely, in her direction,

"Dad has just gone to calm down a bit, we've all just had a bit of a shock," He offered a tight smile in her direction, which she returned with a furrowed brow.

"What h…"

Ron turned towards her, but his ears were a violent maroon colour and he looked ready and capable of exploding as he opened his mouth and then shut it again soundlessly. Harry, who looked grim but otherwise far less affected than the others, turned towards her too and said dully, "It's Ginny."

Hermione, brow creasing even more in alarm and worry, opened her mouth to urge him to explain and tell her _what _was Ginny, was cut off before she could as a distant door slammed and they all heard angry footsteps approaching the kitchen door from the hallway. George quickly cut in in a low undertone, "Don't mention Ginny in front of mum right now," before Molly had appeared through the doorway and slammed that door too, face angry and tear-stained as she avoided all their gazes and bustled over to the sink, busying herself instantly with the plates and dishes on the sideboard. Her hands were shaking and rattling the china as she sent several stacks flying through the air to a cupboard and flicked her wand at another, making some china teacups fly out too and settle with bangs onto the counter in front of her, one of them cracking in two as it hit the surface rather too forcefully. Molly let out a frustrated sound and tapped it to mend it instantly but gave no other sign of acknowledging her rather too forceful magic, only muttering something angrily.

"Don't know what that girl is thinking, just waltzing back in here and telling us that _he _has changed…one of them, always one of them…bad news…."

Hermione watched her discreetly wipe the tears from her eyes while her back was still turned to them and then all of a sudden whirl around, an all too bright and false smile plastered on her face.

"Hermione my dear! So nice to see you, would you like a cup of tea?"

Her voice sounded falsely bright and cheerful and went up much too high at the end of her sentence. Her face too was still blotched from the tears, but there was a scary glint of anger still in her eyes that made Hermione a bit nervous as she stuttered a polite, "Yes, thank you, that would be lovely Molly," towards her host. Hermione exchanged glances with the rest. Ron was still apparently voiceless in his anger, but Harry and George bent their heads indicating the table a little way off and she followed them eagerly over with Luna bouncing next to her. They took the end farthest away from Molly at the counter, still bustling over the teacups, and Bill and Percy slowly made their way over too, taking the nearer end and effectively blocking the sound a bit to Molly's ears.

She leaned in to the others. "So?" She whispered urgently.

Harry and George exchanged glances while Ron just sat next to them staring vacantly at something while he tried to control the rouge inflaming his face.

"Ginny came back early this morning from her trip," George began evenly, in as quiet a voice as he could manage.

"And? Why is everyone so upset about her?" Hermione whispered back. "What did Molly mean when she was just muttering about all that-"

"Apparently she met an old acquaintance while she was in Montreal," Harry continued gravely. From his expression and everything Hermione had already witnessed this was not good, whatever it was. She gulped and continued looking at them expectantly.

"Draco Malfoy," Ron finally choked out, ears flaring even as he said the name.

Hermione gasped, startled. "What? Are you sure?"

Harry and George nodded gravely. "Apparently, he has been hiding out there now for the past couple of years under an assumed identity; but Ginny noticed him immediately when she saw him in a wizarding neighbourhood there; she said he still looked exactly the same; he hadn't even bothered changing his appearance," Harry continued.

Hermione thought about all the rumours that had circulated following the disappearance of the sole surviving Malfoy; well, the sole surviving Malfoy on the loose, anyway; Lucius was still rotting away in Azkaban, as far as she knew. After the war, efforts had been made to round up all known Death-Eaters and Death-Eater's associates, and put them on trial for their involvement in the crimes that had been committed under the Dark Lord, but Malfoy had been one of the ones to just disappear completely; no-one had heard of him since. In the aftermath of the week following the Battle of Hogwarts, Malfoy Manor had been burnt to the ground by protesters unknown, taking out their anger at the Malfoy family. The remains of Narcissa Malfoy had been found inside and the act of destruction universally condemmed by the Ministry and the wizarding press; it still left Hermione sick thinking about how someone could do that, regardless of who the Malfoys had been, and especially after all the loss of life that had already occurred that week and all the casualties they had sustained. But the wizarding world was still trying to pick itself up off its knees and the perpetrators had been uncaught; and Draco never found either. Since then there had only been rumours. She had heard a strange one that said that he had been working in the field of experimental charms and making some massive headway in developing new magical theories, but that sounded nothing like the Draco Malfoy she had known at school; he had never been one to work at anything much, never mind such a huge experimental project, and when he was on the run from the wizarding authorities to boot.

"That's not the worst bit though, just that she _saw _him," Ron spat suddenly, having regained more of his normal colour. "Tell her the rest of it- tell her the rest of what Ginny said," he continued violently.

"Keep your voice down," George warned his brother.

Harry continued the story. "She met Malfoy, she- she _befriended_ Malfoy," he continued, forcing the word out as if unbelieveable, "and she-"

"She came here today and had the gall to tell us all that she is _IN LOVE_ with Malfoy!" Ron exploded, springing up from his chair violently and upsetting his chair behind him to the point of tipping over. "IN LOVE, WITH A FILTHY DEATH EATER!" he yelled, face quite scarlet again by this point.

Hermione sat still, shocked by the outburst. Molly had turned around again to face them all at the table and her face was set in a grim, agitated expression, mouth clenched shut in a tight line.

"RONALD, No need to keep on shouting about it!" She admonished her son harshly, looking daggers at him for bringing it up again.

"He's not a Death Eater, anymore, anyway, the Death Eaters are long gone," Luna piped up easily from her quiet place next to George.

"Once a Death Eater, Always a Death Eater," Ron bit back uncompromisingly, glaring at Luna, who just stared back at him quite unconcerned.

"Luna's right, Ron, people can change," Harry said gently, prompting all to turn to him. "I know none of you want to forgive him too easily for what he participated in, but you know- Draco and his family- they all seemed pretty reluctant towards the end there, and I think he was sorry…"

"Harry, we know how you feel about Malfoy's involvement, you've said so before," Bill started, "But the fact is, he has never been tried by the Wizengamot. He can't just be absolved for all his crimes without being put to trial…"

"But if Ginny says she loves him, then she must be seeing something there, and you know, what happened to his mother was really awful, and no-one deserves that-"

They all looked down at their laps. "Yes, of course it was awful, Harry, but that doesn't change who Draco is or what he did," Molly started, tears in her eyes.

"If Ginny loves him, that should be enough for us to give him a chance," Harry spoke adamantly. "He can have a trial; and I will speak on his behalf, if he has really changed,"

"For Merlin's sake, she can't just go on a world tour, bump into a Death Eater and a week later declare her undying love for him to her family and expect us all to just understand!" Molly exploded, weeping into her apron.

All the boys and Hermione and Luna sat around the table exchanged glances, not knowing what to say. For Hermione, who had been feeling quite agitated by her morning before she arrived, it was all a bit overwhelming to take in. Ginny was in love? And with Malfoy? She needed to speak to her friend, but she certainly wasn't just going to dismiss her decision on Malfoy; if she saw something in him, then they should all be able to as well. Not all those who had been Death Eaters were really bad.

"I don't want the family to fall out again," Percy said quietly to the silent room.

"Oh Perce!" His mother sobbed and reached towards him in his chair, leaning down onto him and enveloping his skinny frame in a hug from behind the chair in an awkward stance. Percy shifted uncomfortably and patted his mother's arm awkwardly.

"It's ok, Perce, we won't be falling out," George said somberly. "I think we all just need some time to cool down and adjust to the idea,"

Molly nodded tearfully, releasing her son. "It's a… It's a lot to take in," she sniffled.

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Um, where is Ginny now?" she asked hesitantly.

"Dunno," Ron replied moodily, "She stormed off when none of us would listen to her singing the git's praises, we have no idea where she went," he shrugged.

"We think from what she said that they entered the country together," Bill spoke directly to Hermione. "So wherever she is, he is probably with her."

"He's come back here? That's risking a lot," she observed, interestedly. "Listen, I think I need to go and find her, and see what she has to say; I haven't seen her in months,"

"Tell her we're sorry, Hermione, if you find her," Molly started immediately, wiping her tears away and looking up at Hermione wide-eyed and obviously stricken by their own heat-of-the-moment reaction. "It's just… not what any of us expected, I guess," she said, giving Harry a shifty look out of the corner of her eye, which Hermione did not miss. She knew what that was about. Everyone had expected that sooner or later, Harry & Ginny would end up back together again. It had all been a bit of a shock when they had split up, but the pair had remained completely amicable throughout the whole affair, maintaining that they weren't cut out to be anything more than friends, in the end. Kind of like her & Ron really. Hermione sighed inwardly and got to her feet.

"Of course, Molly," she inclined her head to the older woman who nodded at her gratefully. "I'll let you know if I find her."

* * *

><p>Sorry to cut it there, but I'm working on the next part! Please review if you have the time L'Emeraude.<p> 


	4. Sweet Oblivion

AN- Where is Severus, you ask? Is he coming back any time soon? Well read on and all shall be revealed :D I wasn't sure how much to go into the back story of Draco and Ginny in this at the moment so I've glossed over it as much as possible; I had to keep in a certain amount however. Maybe if anyone wanted to read it I'll write their meeting as a couple of chapters in a separate story at some point. To Pootiexx- your suspicions are correct, *grins* although I don't think that will become apparent till next chapter. Disclaimer – I do not own any of this.

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 4 – Sweet Oblivion**

"We think from what she said that they entered the country together," Bill spoke directly to Hermione. "So wherever she is, he is probably with her."

"He's come back here? That's risking a lot," she observed, interestedly. "Listen, I think I need to go and find her, and see what she has to say; I haven't seen her in months,"

"Tell her we're sorry, Hermione, if you find her," Molly started immediately, wiping her tears away and looking up at Hermione wide-eyed and obviously stricken by their own heat-of-the-moment reaction. "It's just… not what any of us expected, I guess," she said, giving Harry a shifty look out of the corner of her eye, which Hermione did not miss. She knew what that was about. Everyone had expected that sooner or later, Harry & Ginny would end up back together again. It had all been a bit of a shock when they had split up, but the pair had remained completely amicable throughout the whole affair, maintaining that they weren't cut out to be anything more than friends, in the end. Kind of like her & Ron really. Hermione sighed inwardly and got to her feet.

"Of course, Molly," she inclined her head to the older woman who nodded at her gratefully. "I'll let you know if I find her."

* * *

><p>As Hermione left the Burrow she was lost in thought, hoping to figure out where Ginny might have gone. Draco didn't give any obvious clues, as he no longer had a home to go back to, and even if he did it wouldn't be wise to show up there. So it must have been somewhere chosen by Ginny… where would she take him? Her first thought was somewhere close to where she now spent most of her time; Holyhead, in Wales. Hermione knew that Ginny favoured the popular wizarding bed and breakfast, The Frog and Lily, whenever she stayed there on her own, as she had once stayed there with her the night before a big Quidditch match that Ginny had been nervous about. Best start there.<p>

She apparated to a deserted spot outside the main entrance of the building. It was a pretty little place, surrounded by the rich green of trees and sporting quite a bit of ivy over the stately façade, only broken by the regularly spaced narrow windows. As she stepped hurriedly over the little courtyard-drive the stones of the gravel crunched under her feet noisily.

There was only one young man holding the reception desk, busied over a ledger when she walked in. She cleared her throat to get his attention, and he looked up in surprise.

"He-hem… um, are you able to tell me if you have a Miss Ginevra Weasley currently staying with you?" Hermione stumbled politely. "I'm a friend of hers."

The young man flashed his teeth towards her in an insincere smile and simpered, "Yes, of course, let me just have a look for you… There is a Miss Weasley staying with us, accompanied by a Mr Dragone, but they are not here at the moment,"

Hermione smiled subtly in thanks, "I'll wait on your Veranda for them, if that's alright?" she enquired sweetly, and, receiving his assurance that he would inform them of her arrival if they came back, she waltzed out to the Veranda stretched along the back of the building, where tea and coffee was still being served. Mr Dragone, she smirked to herself. Not a very imaginative identity- it didn't take a whole lot of brainpower to associate that with his true name, now, did it?

Choosing a little table and ordering herself a cup of coffee, she stretched back and stared vacantly out at the walled garden filled with lavender and sweetly smelling herbs, allowing herself to relax a little. Her shoulders sagged and she realised how much tension she was carrying today, not just since she walked into the chaotic Burrow and learned about all the melodrama there, but since she woke. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into the comforting back of the wicker chair, and tried guiding her thoughts back to the foggy time of her evening and night- the time she couldn't remember. Everything was just haze. Hermione furrowed her brow and concentrated harder, trying to hold onto a vague shadow as it slipped past her mind- too quickly. It was so slippery, like her mind was fastforwarding over a walled and hidden portion it would not let her look at. But she knew _something_ had happened – could feel it, that something was hidden there, waiting to be revealed, remembered. It felt important. That was an ever increasing certainty in her mind.

Hermione recalled reading a book about techniques used on patients at St Mungos who were being treated for memory loss; techniques to try and help them recover their mind. She didn't think that _she _had been obliviated, that was ridiculous; but maybe some of those techniques might help her with the memory gap, nevertheless. There had been something about meditation and not forcing your mind towards the lost memories… and then there had been a spell to allow wandering of the mind…

"Hermione!" A voice very close by yelled in surprise, and Hermione yelped out of her relaxed state, eyes shooting open.

"Ginny?" Her heart was hammering; for Merlin's sake, why was she so jumpy today?

"Did you speak to my family?" The read-headed witch pranced forward, eyes narrowed suspiciously, but something in her expression still denoting to Hermione how relieved she was to see her- a friendly face. It was somewhat of a relief for Hermione too. Merlin knew she needed someone to talk to.

"Well, yes actually, - but don't worry, I'm not here to judge," Hermione added hastily as she saw her friend's expression begin to darken. "I've missed you, Gin," she said, getting up to hug her friend. Ginny looked well, she noted; her eyes danced with a happy brightness and her skin gave off a healthy glow. The trip had obviously agreed with her.

"Welcome back!" She exclaimed and was rewarded by a tinkling laugh from Gin. "So what happened? Are you back for good?"

Ginny sighed and tossed her hair as she pulled back from the sisterly embrace and settled down in the chair opposite the one that Hermione had been using. Hermione followed suit, dropping back down and fixing her friend with a serious but gentle 'I'm listening' look.

"I don't know- I mean, I want it to be for good, but I'm not sure whether that's a viable situation right now," she started, looking a little vexed.

"You mean because of Mal- because of Draco?" Hermione corrected herself quickly.

"Yes," Ginny said, eyeing her friend sharply. "How much did they tell you?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not much. Probably best you start at the beginning.

* * *

><p>Severus was brooding.<p>

It had only been a few hours since his encounter with Hermione, and he was back in his nicely solitary accommodation, trying to focus on brewing a potion, which would obviously usually be an immensely enjoyable task. But ever since he had got back and tried to pretend to himself that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, his nerves were on edge and he just felt like he was _waiting, _constantly. Which he was. Always just waiting. It was irksome.

He growled to himself and plonked down the ladle. Nothing was occupying him. He needed to know what she was up to. He needed to know if his deception had worked and if she truly remembered nothing, or if he needed to act further to ensure _her_ inaction. He needed to know how much longer he was going to have to keep all this up; all this _living _that was being required of him.

He was more shaken up than he expected to be, too, from the encounter with her. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to be seen by someone else; to talk to them, to hold a conversation. It was always so desolate here by himself, and yes, ok, that was mostly self-inflicted, but it was occasionally _too _lonely, being perpetually without companionship.

He thought he'd managed it sufficiently. His… interrogation of her. Hardly could it be called a conversation. Ok, so he'd been a little agitated to find that she hadn't been to the past yet or even conceived of her plan, but now he could stop her entirely and the whole problem would be solved much more neatly. So it was all for the best. A little bubble of guilt welled up inside him at the thought of deceiving her so; of taking her memories from her and taking the Journal – but it was necessary. Coldly, Severus was aware of how he was viewing his own mortality in such clinical perspective by making the decision to stop her, but he was unable to crawl back the distance he had put between himself and the events. Necessary, as he said.

But what if she didn't stop there? What if her damned determination; a trait he knew fine well she possessed; made her continue to pursue her interest in his writings, and therefore in him, beyond the loss of the diary?

That damn woman. Maddening eyes were haunting him. As always, beautiful green eyes lay hidden in stealthy readiness behind his eyelids, but now there was a second pair haunting his mind. Ever since she had decided to meddle in his life and save him, those maddening ones of hers had joined the attack, filled with curiosity and determination. He didn't understand her, but easily he could perceive how her action had caused his mind to slowly start to change its perception of her; to dwell on her and wonder about her beyond

Over the couple of years since that fateful battle, her image in his mind had become a dull, faded one, but her exact features had been burned back into the forefront of his mind by the encounter yesterday, making it harder to expel her from his waking thoughts, and making those eyes haunt him more fiercely than ever. Though he had made an effort to keep a tab on her since her miraculous appearance in the Headmaster's study, he had always been careful not to let her see him, and while he had observed her from afar a few times, it wasn't the same as seeing her up close, interacting with him, her sparkling eyes and all those questions she would invariably throw at him. It was a revelation, in a way, after so much time. Again he tried to squash down images of her from the night before, gazing up at him with her hand on his chest.

He fingered the black journal now lying on a table to the side of him, that journal he had taken away from her.

To make sure she didn't pursue it… he must double his efforts to keep a distanced eye on her.

* * *

><p>"I don't know how it happened, Hermione, but… I think I'm in love with him. With Draco Malfoy," Ginny gave a little derisive laugh at her own expense, "Never thought I'd hear myself say that before this trip,"<p>

Hermione gave a weak smile of her own in return and waited.

"Right. From the beginning. Well, I first bumped into him in Montreal- he looked exactly the same as I remembered him; only he wasn't nearly as arrogant as he used to be when I had it out with him; but that's jumping ahead." She stared off into space contemplatively. "I'd gone to a concert by the Weird Sisters with Carina and we were walking back through the magical quarter when I saw this silver shock of hair and then next thing I knew I'd walked straight into someone and fallen over," Ginny laughed with nostalgia.

"You literally walked right in to him?"

"Yep," Ginny agreed, blushing. "Didn't notice it was him till he'd already pulled me to my feet or I'd never have taken his hand,"

"So what happened when you _did _realise who he was?" Hermione prompted.

"I um… well I wasn't exactly discreet… I couldn't hold in my Weasley temper, I suppose," Ginny shrugged. "I would have yelled everything about him to the entire street if he hadn't seen red and pulled me into his workshop,"

"His workshop?" Hermione queried incredulously.

"Yes; turns out I'd walked into him right outside the premises he used to do all his magical study at; his workshop, as I said," the redhead explained. "Well, he dragged me straight in there and hissed at me to shut up, which only got me more angry, of course," she prattled on. "He seemed pretty shocked himself, but then when I finished raving at him, and went to stalk out to go and inform the authorities about him, he grabbed my arm and pleaded with me not to- and that was when I realised how changed he was."

"Changed?" Hermione echoed sarcastically. "Changed how, exactly?"

"Well, I suddenly realised that he hadn't once sneered at me, and he'd listened to me with this look of pain- like he deserved everything that he got and he was just sorry- and I began to take note of my surroundings."

"The workshop, right. So why did he have a workshop?" Hermione picked up quickly, curiosity burning immediately.

"Well, I started questioning him about that- about what he was up to there," Ginny continued, nodding. "You'd never guess it- but Draco Malfoy has become somewhat of an inventor."

Hermione stared at her friend, surprise and dubiousness etched across her face. "Malfoy? An Inventor? Of what, exactly?"

"He works in experimental charms. Creating new spells for use on objects, and in particular researching the properties of magical metal alloys for use in charmed objects."

"That sounds…. Entirely implausible for… _Malfoy," _Hermione eyed her friend, shocked beyond belief by this last statement. "The subject… sounds fascinating, actually; but Malfoy? Studying all that stuff and doing research when he doesn't have to? Come on…"

"I'm telling you he's changed, Hermione!" Ginny said somewhat hotly. "I mean; I didn't believe it at first either; not that day, or the next, or the next; but apparently one of his ways of forgetting about the past and trying to redeem himself a little has been to throw himself completely into his work. And he's really good at it, from what I can gather,"

* * *

><p>Wales? What in the name of Merlin's beard was she doing in the most remote part of Wales? Severus growled and slashed his wand through the air to cancel the spell. The smoky map disappeared instantly into the thin air in front of him, and he went back to the pacing of the cold dank room; forth to the narrow slit window through which a bare light penetrated, and back into the dark depths. Over and over the stone flagstones.<p>

* * *

><p>"…So anyway, after he had followed me over the entire country we had become more than good friends. I left the Harpies on tour before they left Canada to come back here with Draco; that's why I'm so much sooner back than planned," Ginny finished a very long tale covering every aspect of her journey with Draco through Canada.<p>

Hermione stretched and rubbed at her stiff neck. They had been sitting there for quite a time while Ginny recounted all the events that led her back home as Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Or rather, 'Eltanin Dragone' as he was currently masquerading. Hermione shook her head ruefully.

"He can't hide forever, though, Ginny. What is Draco going to do about the authorities? You can't either of you hope that he won't be noticed now he's back in the country. He'll have to turn himself in and allow a trial, surely," Hermione asked, concerned.

"Draco doesn't want to hide anymore either; he told me that if he was going to come back here then it is time to face the music and face whatever is coming to him," Ginny admitted, with a troubled expression. "But I've convinced him to wait a few days before going to the Ministry; I'm hoping to round up some support for his case first, although the meeting with my family didn't go as well as I had hoped… and besides, I need a few more days in case…"

"Ginny, they won't send him to Azkaban," Hermione assured her firmly. "and Harry said at the Burrow earlier that if it came to it, he would vouch for Draco. With Harry Potter _the saviour _on his side it'll be a breeze,"

"He did?" Ginny spoke in surprise, brightening visibly.

"Of course," Hermione smiled. "You know Harry, after all. He forgave Draco a long time ago. He's a lot more mature than Ron, anyhow,"

Ginny snorted, "Yeah, lots."

"Your mum told me to tell you that she's sorry for the way they reacted earlier, too." Hermione added sagely. "I think you just gave them too much of a shock, Gin. Needless to say your brothers don't exactly react well to surprises like that."

"Yeah. Ok, point taken," Ginny looked at her friend a little sheepishly, and they both fell silent, thinking.

Ginny took the moment to observe her friend properly, and wasn't particularly pleased to notice an air of tension and underlying exhaustion as if she'd been working herself too hard again.

"So what's up with you, Hermione?" Been working too many hours in that poky office while I've been away?" She asked shrewdly.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead, her long brown curls waving about her face. "I can handle it Ginny; so I work long hours, but haven't I always?"

"Yeah, perpetual workaholic, don't we know it," Ginny joked. "Seriously though; have you been seeing much of Harry and Ron and Luna? You need to relax and have a life outside of all those books too, you know,"

"Barely back and you're already bossing me about," Hermione quipped back, then immediately sobered. Ginny picked up straight away that something was bothering her.

"Hermione? What's up?" she prodded.

Hermione gave another great sigh of vexation and fidgeted slightly in her chair. "I… I did spend the day yesterday with Luna…but…" she began, then broke off, biting her lip.

"But…" Ginny prompted gently.

"But then I went home, and i… I can't remember anything about what I did after that," she let out in a rush, gasping.

"You… what do you mean you can't remember?" Ginny frowned suspiciously, concern kindling in her expression.

"I.. uh, I woke up this morning and I couldn't remember anything that happened since I got home yesterday evening. It's been giving me a massive headache trying to recall anything; I keep trying, but its just like this fuzzy, blank spot that I'm sliding over-"

"Hermione!" Ginny cried, sounding a lot more concerned now. "Why didn't you tell me this before? Have you told anyone else? This could be serious, you silly… Harry and Ron are training to be Aurors, you should have told them-"

"Ginny! Calm down!" Hermione said, growing alarmed by her reaction. "It's just a little fuzzy gap, that's all, there's no need to start alarming Harry and Ron, they'd completely overreact, I'm sure I've just been overtaxing myself, like you said."

"Hermione," Ginny scolded again, "Memories don't just disappear by themselves. You could have been obliviated- or anything!"

"I hardly think-"

"No- you're not arguing with me about this, Hermione," Ginny said forcefully, putting her foot down. "You should stay here with me and Draco tonight; I'm sure they have another room free you can get; I don't think its safe you going back to your flat alone until we work out what happened with your memory gap."

"What- don't you think that's a little ridiculous?" Hermione cried.

"Of course not! I can't believe you have lived in the magical world this long and you won't consider that something strange might have happened here that needs investigating first!"

"I-"

"No excuses, Hermione. You're staying here. I'll call Harry and Ron otherwise."

* * *

><p>Severus apparated to a spot close by to the location the co-ordinate spell he had cast on Hermione had indicated to him. A squat building sat in front of a backdrop of trees; their emerald green canopy leaning in on the little bed and breakfast as if to claim it into the forest. It had a quaint, chocolate-box feel to it, with its regular proportions and the messy ivy clinging to the front. He stared, trying to picture why Hermione would have chosen to come here, of all places, a <em>bed and breakfast<em>, far from where he had left her sleeping in her London flat.

He really had to stop caring. Just figure out whether he was safe from her dogged determination or not, and then stop caring about what she got up to or where she went. The day he could finally stop trying to figure out the brain of Hermione Granger, would be a blissful one.

There was a low stone wall behind him running along the perimeter of the road, and he leaned his black-clad figure against it for a moment, contemplating how to enter and find out what she was up to without getting caught. There was no way he was allowing her to see him again so soon. He silently cast a bedazzling hex over himself, and then muttered a quick 'Homenum Revelio' to discover her exact location within. Ah, yes, there, up in a room in the eastern end.

Severus froze in the act of pushing off of the wall. Someone had Apparated right in front of him. Their back was turned to him and their attention was on the building, too, meaning that they were completely oblivious to his presence; even without the bedazzling hex hopefully shielding him; but he held his breath and stared in silence nevertheless as the person strode off to the entrance porch without delay.

The figure in front of him cut an all too familiar stride, and his hair was a silvery-blonde, unmistakeable to those familiar with the notorious family. Severus's blood ran cold with immediate recognition. How could this be? Had one of them really discovered her already- was his job of keeping her safe really going to be this difficult? But how could he know what she would make, _she _didn't even know yet. And hopefully never would- but, beside the point.

Even without seeing his face he knew that this man was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

><p>…Let me know what you think, pretty please? I should be able to post the next part by the middle of next week, but I'm not guaranteeing anything<p> 


	5. Reversal

AN- Sorry I've been away for so long! I'm a terrible person. Here is chapter 5 at long last! I hope you all have good memories, lol.

Disclaimer – Like usual, I do not own any of this, yatta yatta.

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 5 – Reversal**

Severus froze in the act of pushing off of the wall. Someone had Apparated right in front of him. Their back was turned to him and their attention was on the building, too, meaning that they were completely oblivious to his presence; even without the bedazzling hex hopefully shielding him; but he held his breath and stared in silence nevertheless as the person strode off to the entrance porch without delay.

The figure in front of him cut an all too familiar stride, and his hair was a silvery-blonde, unmistakeable to those familiar with the notorious family. Severus's blood ran cold with immediate recognition. How could this be? Had one of them really discovered her already- was his job of keeping her safe really going to be this difficult? But how could he know what she would make, _she _didn't even know yet. And hopefully never would- but, beside the point.

Even without seeing his face he knew that this man was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy was here, at the same inconspicuous bed and breakfast, at the same time, as Hermione. That couldn't be a coincidence.<p>

Severus had to find out what was going on here, preferably without being seen by anyone, and without risking Malfoy getting too close to Hermione before he had figured out if he was a viable threat or not for certain. The number one priority was to keep Hermione safe, but the second priority was to maintain a low profile. Decided that he would take Malfoy out of the picture if it became necessary, Severus struck off of the wall to follow him.

Stalking silently behind the young man he crossed the threshold into the hotel. Malfoy made straight for the staircase, obviously having a room as destination. So Snape followed, frowning with apprehension and keeping as close as he dared while trying to move silently and not be detected. Thus far the hex seemed to be holding and concealing him ok but they weren't always foolproof; he'd have preferred to obtain a temporary invisibility cloak to go into an occupied surrounding like this but there just wasn't time.

He liked Draco. That was why he would give him the benefit of the doubt before acting; with any other filthy ex-Death Eater they would have been eliminated before they had had a chance to move ten paces. But Draco… he was one of his old charges; and he still, after all this time, felt responsible for the boy, in a way. After all, it wasn't like he had any family to watch out for him these days, was it?

Speaking of which, where had Draco been for all this time, only now to make a sudden reappearance? If there was one thing on which Severus Snape was up to date on in current affairs; it was Death Eaters. He had made it his job to know everything he could about the ones still at large; sightings, news reports. And if he could hunt one down himself, he would. But Draco had proved to all the Aurors and to himself to be one of the most elusive of the known group still at large, and Severus, at least, had been loath to go to too much trouble finding that particular individual, if he was doing such a splendid job of hiding himself. He knew how Draco had felt about carrying out his orders and such during the war. No. He hadn't been a true Death Eater at heart, and Severus had always hoped to talk him out of his orders in the boy's sixth year, no matter what it meant for himself.

So why was he so worried about his presence now? It was Hermione, damn her. He couldn't risk dismissing Draco if it put her life in jeopardy. Merlin, that woman was screwing with his mental faculties. She had saved him and now he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Malfoy reached the top of the staircase and turned in the opposite direction to the one Severus knew Hermione to be in. He breathed a sigh of relief and paused, wondering whether to continue following his old charge or to go in search of Hermione herself, but barely two seconds had ticked by and he was picking up his pace to catch up to Malfoy again. He had to try and find out his reasons for being in the hotel, and his allegiances now. It had been two years, for Merlin's sake. He could have changed a lot in those two years. Who knew who this man was now? He would check on Hermione afterwards and sate his curiosity concerning whatever she was up to in being here.

Malfoy had reached a door at the end of the corridor and was tapping on it with his wand to open it. Severus sped up, not wanting to get shut out of the room before he could discover whatever the boy's motives for being here were, and reached his side just as Malfoy was pushing against the door to swing it open and stepping inside. He made a hasty duck and made it into the room too, before Malfoy had closed it shut behind him, and backed slightly along the wall into the corner, skulking, as his mind processed the information before him.

They had entered a bright, sunlit suite open onto an wide balcony, letting in a breeze and setting the light-coloured curtains flapping around the threshold. A woman sat out at the little table and chairs there with her back to the door; her free hair also wildly swaying about in the breeze and forming a fiery halo around her.

This woman was no ordinary woman, however. As Draco swept into the room and headed immediately towards the balcony and her, she obviously heard him coming and turned around, her mouth curved up into a radiant smile, and she launched herself out of the chair into his arms as he reached her, giving him a welcoming kiss and staring up at him adoringly. Severus could only stare at the scene in flabbergasted astonishment, trying very hard not to choke on his tongue and inform them of his presence with a noisy coughing fit.

_Ginny Weasley. _

At his first sight of her his heart had constricted a little, and the sudden absurd notion that that was Lily sitting on the sunlit balcony, had stirred him tremendously, but then, just the instant later, she had turned and the illusion had been shattered, leaving him with only a bitter, hollow feeling. He had never found Ginevra Weasley to be a bit like her red-headed counterpart in personality or charm while he had had the displeasure of teaching her in school; or at least, none of the things he had loved about Lily. She was rougher and more boisterous and hot-tempered, was obsessed with Quidditch, as Lily had never been, and her freckles and chocolate brown eyes were nothing like Lily, either, making it easy to think nothing of her. But just seeing her from behind, for that split second so much taller and more like Lily's figure than when he had last seen her; all the years had unravelled and rewound and he had found it the easiest thing to fancy her sitting there, perfectly alive, vitally alive like he had known and loved, and his heart had ached again as if no time at all had passed.

But he was no longer in love with Lily Potter. His heart may give a wrenching pang, unable to forget, but in his mind he had finally managed to put her behind him, mostly. Her eyes still haunted him, but much less since that Monster that had murdered her had finally been defeated and her son safe at last. He could finally put it behind him a little.

And also since Hermione had started consuming his thoughts, too, of course, trying to work out why that damned girl had decided to rescue him. She had been much more prevalent in his mind recently than she had any right to be.

Merlin he hated her. She was why he was here right now, still alive and living and _getting over Lily. _He didn't _want _to get over Lily, he just wanted to be able to die in peace and not have to bother anymore with the dreary routine of every day.

But… getting back to the present. Draco was here with Ginevra Weasley? That was the most unlikely… that did not make sense. Didn't the Weasleys and the Malfoys hate each other and have some kind of feud thing going on? He felt like trying to shake his head to clear all the confusion and befuddlement this revelation kindled, but he knew that sharp movement like that might draw their attention and let them see through the bedazzling hex concealing him, so he staying frozen in place, eavesdropping on the beginnings of their conversation to try to work out what was going on. What surprised him immediately was that they were talking about Hermione; so their presence was connected with hers. His ears pricked up.

"So your Patronus said that Hermione is here…?" Draco questioned the woman in his arms straight away, leaning down and planting several kisses on the skin of her neck as he continued to hold her, awaiting her explanation.

"Yes… she… she talked to my family and came looking for us," Ginny gasped as Draco continued to kiss her neck with light brushes of his lips, being exceedingly gentle with her. "Stop that, Draco, it's too distracting," she gasped, squirming in his arms but clearly liking the attention too much to actually push herself away. Draco smirked back at her and didn't relent with his trail of kisses up her throat.

"So? What did she say in response to… well, to us?" He paused momentarily so that he could ask her.

"She seemed to be alright with it, and she even told me that mum had passed on an apology for _her_ behaviour earlier on, and that Harry would speak for you at the trial," Ginny replied, sounding somewhat distracted but with a hint of the surprise she must feel in her tone.

Draco stopped in surprise himself and looked at her. "Potter will speak for me?" He queried incredulously.

"Yes, Draco, don't sound so stunned, Harry is a good man and it's more obvious than you think that you are too," Ginny said, swatting his arm lightly.

"Well, okay…" Draco begun. "That's… that's very good of him," he ended eventually.

"Yes. It is," Ginny agreed, and then took his lips with hers demandingly, effectively ending the conversation by pulling him down to her passionately.

Severus eyed the loved-up couple in disgust. Ugh. He so did not need to witness this. As surprising as it was, Malfoy and the Weasley girl seemed to have found some kind of a relationship, and Draco was talking about having a trial as if he was going to hand himself in. So he wasn't any kind of threat to Hermione, then. And he had also managed to solve the riddle of why Hermione had come to this out-of-the-way hotel on the spur of the moment without even having to see her. Time to make his exit; he doubted that they would notice, as wrapped up as they were in each other.

But just then, they started talking again, and it was about Hermione again. Severus stopped, curious, to listen. He couldn't help himself.

Draco had pulled back from Ginny to frown at her and ask, "But, the Patronus- you said that Hermione was still here? Why is that?"

Ginny suddenly looked concerned as she considered the question. "Well we were talking about us and she was acting fine, but then I asked her if she was alright because she seemed a bit off, and she told me she has this gaping hole in her memory of last night and I didn't think it was safe for her to go back to her flat on her own until we figured out why her memories have suddenly started eluding her," Ginny rattled off, explaining in one great rush.

Draco frowned again. "Memories don't just disappear by themselves," he observed.

"That's exactly what I said!" Ginny exclaimed angrily. "She was just trying to brush it off, but I threatened her with Harry and Ron if she didn't entertain me, so she's got a room down the hall for tonight, and I think we should try and figure out if anyone has been in her apartment or anything that could have Obliviated her before we let her back there alone."

Severus wanted to mutter an oath but bit it back. Stupid meddling girl. So she was the reason Hermione was holed up here now instead of the safety of her own home, and she was going to mess up all his carefully laid plans with her interference. Hermione had obviously been confused but not alarmed herself by the memory loss, and all would have been fine, but her little friend was actually being more sensible about it, little did she know. Now he knew he couldn't just leave Hermione and expect everything to turn out ok. Luckily, he wouldn't have to go back to her flat and wipe his magical signature in case they went and did any investigating; he had had the foresight to do that already. But Hermione would be suspicious because of these two telling her that she should be, instead of just letting it go like she probably would have otherwise done, and he didn't know what to do to fix it.

As the couple continued to talk while embracing each other, Severus snuck back out of the door behind him. He didn't really have a reason to seek out Hermione now, now that he had received an explanation for her presence here and relieved his worries about Draco, but he couldn't help himself once more; he found himself drifting along the corridor to the room his spell had located her to be in. Drifting to a stop outside the door, he paused and stared at it a while, an unfamiliar ache pressing against his chest as he fought the conflicting compulsions to leave without exposing himself and checking on her first. His brain rationalised the impulse to see her once again as checking his plan was still going smoothly and she wasn't dwelling on her memory-loss, but how he would achieve that anyway wasn't clear. He found himself muttering a spell of his own invention to melt the properties of the wall in front of him and be able to see and hear through it.

"_Destruam," _he murmured, and at once the wall of the corridor warped, becoming an amorphous, dense foggy field of light, still blocking his path but not his hearing or vision, although neither were by any means perfect. Since he created the spell to only affect the wall from the perspective of the caster of the spell, no one else who walked by; or more importantly, Hermione herself; would detect anything to be the matter with it.

Hermione sat inside the room at the pine desk, scribbling furiously and muttering to herself. At seeing her, some of the tension inside Severus seemed to dissipate a bit, and he stared at her intently, slightly more relaxed than he had been at any point since he left her flat that morning.

She was muttering softly, and he had a hard time picking up the words properly. "_Really…fine…Ginny insists but…Sopophorous…Journey…St Mungos healer… dream…"_

Severus stared at the wall in horror; he hadn't addled her mind, had he, by Obliviating her? Clearly he wasn't catching the whole picture with his eavesdropping but what little he was picking up didn't make much sense. He shook his head to stop his concern right there. She seemed to be intent on her parchment, at any rate, which seemed a reassuringly Hermione thing to be doing, and she was probably only articulating the odd thought. He sighed. It was hopeless to learn anything this way. It didn't sound like she remembered his being alive or was too worried about the journal, at any rate. He would just have to keep an eye on her to make sure it stayed that way.

He made a retreat and slipped quietly back outside to Disapparate.

* * *

><p>Hermione <em>was <em>intent on the parchment before her, as she wrote down what she knew so far. Alongside her plan. Because Ginny's concern had made her re-evaluate what she had already been mulling over, namely what could have happened, and what she could do about it.

_Arrived at work – 8.30am_

_Lunch with Luna – 1.30pm_

_4.30pm – Got back to Luna's shop_

_5pm – Got home?_

…

She was thinking again about the idea she had had with the St-Mungo's treatments for memory-loss patients. Where had she read about the techniques they used? She thought she had the book in question on her shelves back at home. At the flat.

Hermione slumped in her chair again, feeling defeat. Ginny and Draco didn't want her to go back there on her own. Not until they had checked it over with her tomorrow. But she didn't need babysitters, she decided, a blaze kindling inside her. They wouldn't know if she snuck out of the B&B and back to the flat tonight by herself to carry out her own investigations and also to start her research.

She begun to try and see if she could remember any of the techniques from the book completely from memory, but it was no good. She sprung up out of the chair and made to get ready to Apparate straight back to her flat, or at least as near as her wards would allow.

In no time at all she was standing at the entrance to her own building in Bloomsbury. Impatiently scaling the stairs, she arrived outside her door and undid the wards with a flick of her wand, adding an extra twist to detect in the wards if there had been anybody unusual in her flat recently. There had not; she recognised all the magical signatures that had entered recently. She thought exasperatedly about how certain Ginny and Draco had been that they would find it otherwise. Honestly, they were just paranoid.

On entering the living room, she felt an immediate confusion as her memories struggled to catch up with the last time she had left it, just that afternoon, and then remembered the panic she had felt at not being about to locate the journal. Which was still missing.

Because she had left the room in quite a state. It looked like a bomb had hit it or she had just been burgled. Hermione collapsed into the centre of the floor and looked around helplessly, her concern for the journal flickering and rising back to the surface. Where could it possibly have gone? She started flicking her wand and replacing things back where they should go, all the while scrutinising her apartment, thinking of places it could be hidden. But after a while, the place looked reasonably tidy once again and no other ideas had come to her. She sighed and stood up, moving over to the massive bookshelf that occupied the largest wall of the room, and began looking for the St-Mungo's book she was sure was in there somewhere. B… Ah, '_Beneath the Surface'. _She was reasonably sure that this was the book she had read the remembrance techniques in.

Flicking through it again on the sofa she could tell why she had been so interested in it the first time around. It melded the cutting edge of spells and potions with muggle medicine and other therapies from the muggle world, to create truly innovative magical-muggle fusion. It was the kind of work she particularly admired for its rarity as a way of thinking, although the author was an unknown one to her. She had remembered that one of the potions had used Sopophorous beans in it to put you in a sleep state and help you explore your memories in a dream-journey that you have a little control over, and set about looking it up.

The index pointed her to_ 'Restorative Elixirs – Salvaging Slumber Cordial, p.327.' _

The potion didn't look too difficult to concoct; she had all the ingredients already and would be able to whip it up in under an hour according to the detailed instructions. Suddenly excited and driven by the knowledge that she may soon have all her memories present and accounted for, she enthusiastically set about transforming her kitchen into a potions lab, and prepared all the ingredients as exactly as possible.

The cauldron was bubbling along merrily soon enough and Hermione stepped back, wiping the perspiration away on her forehead, satisfied with her efforts. In 15 minutes the potion should have thickened and turned a beetroot colour, by which time it would be ready to ingest. She impatiently tapped out the agonising minutes and then decanted the bright liquid that promised so many answers into a thin vial she had set waiting on the counter. That was it. She held it up to the light of her kitchen, observing it apprehensively now that it was finally ready to take. Well, nothing more about it.

Striding through to the bedroom, Hermione set the vial down on the bedside unit carefully and settled herself down on the mattress. If this thing was going to send her deep into her dreams, then she had better make sure she would be comfortable first.

Once she was reasonably sure she was in a relaxed position, she reached over, took a deep breath and swallowed the liquid quickly before she could lose her nerve. It tasted sweet and exotic; like cherry and coconut, with a spicy undertone to it. Almost at once she felt a heavy drowsiness overcome her and lay back on the pillows hastily before she could lose consciousness completely.

Then it came. In dreams, one has no normal sense of time; they lengthen or dissipate at a whim, leaving you an age or hardly any time at all; therefore it was with great difficulty that Hermione could explain what happened next. At some stage, however, she found herself wandering through the grounds of Hogwarts. First she was by the lake, and the water lapped the bank peacefully as she strolled around the side, thinking of nothing except how lovely it was to be beside the shiny unbroken surface of the deep dark water. At length, she noticed the castle itself rising behind and gave a sort of start until she remembered that of course the castle was supposed to be right there. How strange that she hadn't noticed it until now. She broke away from the lake and made a path up to the doors. When she reached them, they glided open on their big heavy hinges completely silently and she found the entrance was empty of any students or teachers. Rising up the main staircase and then starting into the corridors, she noticed how eerily quiet the castle was everywhere. There didn't seem to be anybody there apart from her. How curious. She wandered around the hallways with no sense of direction or purpose, and she wasn't sure that the castle wasn't a vast maze, that didn't lead anywhere anyway.

After an undefinable amount of time though, she reached her destination, and then knew that that was where she had been going all along. The stone gargoyle jumped out of the way with no need for her to say anything and she climbed onto the helical staircase.

The door swung open at the summit. Nothing seemed to be barring her entrance. But as soon as she got through the door the atmosphere seemed to change around her and with a jolt, she realised that she was no longer alone.

A man was bowed over the desk before her, his black greasy hair spilling wildly in an untidy mop on the smooth wood. At her entrance, though, he moved suddenly, rising slowly to meet her eyes. Her mind felt shocked as she suddenly met the depthless gaze of Severus Snape.

All of a sudden the dream changed, and Hermione had the sensation of falling; of plummeting backwards into a sinking pool, and then she realised that she was in her own flat again. Only Severus Snape had followed her there, because he was standing at the end of the bed and speaking to her in a deep, yet hollow voice. She found herself replaying a conversation that she was already familiar with, but it wasn't until now that she knew it had happened before. She watched herself as if she was remote from her own actions as she felt his heartbeat and knew he was alive; watched as he clasped her hands and told her his death hadn't been real. She listened to all of his explanations again and then watched as she handed him the journal and then argued with him, and felt another jolt of shock as he raised his wand against her and heard him say '_Obliviate.' _Only this time it didn't all fade away.

Instead, Hermione came back to reality as she woke up with a gasp in her bedroom, clutching her chest, understanding that it had all been real innately. The memories slotted back into place in her mind, unlocked once more, and she knew that Severus Snape was alive.

* * *

><p>So, where do you think Severus has been hiding all this time and how will he react to Hermione getting her memories back? Mwahaha. Please please please send me a review if you have any feedback, good or bad; I'm at a point where it would be really useful to the story. I have an idea of where I'm going but it is not written yet so feedback really counts for something! And I'd love to know if you are enjoying the story! Thanks for bearing with me this far.<p> 


	6. Theories of Timeturners

AN- For once I am updating quickly! Hooray! Thank you for my recent reviews, I love to hear positive reaction and comments on the plot so far. Okay. So Hermione has rather a lot of emotions to sort through, now. Sorry if it's all a bit longwinded but she needs to sort her head out & we need to know about it! And Snape is still restless. Guess he's feeling guilty about his actions and is fooling himself about quite a bit. Oh deary me. Disclaimer – Like usual, I do not own any of this.

*EDIT - just added dividers through the chapter so you don't get confused by my skipping around from Hero to Heroine & vice versa. Sorry :S

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 6 – Theories of Timeturners**

All of a sudden the dream changed, and Hermione had the sensation of falling; of plummeting backwards into a sinking pool, and then she realised that she was in her own flat again. Only Severus Snape had followed her there, because he was standing at the end of the bed and speaking to her in a deep, yet hollow voice. She found herself replaying a conversation that she was already familiar with, but it wasn't until now that she knew it had happened before. She watched herself as if from remote from her own actions as she felt his heartbeat and knew he was alive; watched as he clasped her hands and told her his death hadn't been real. She listened to all his explanations again and then watched as she handed him the journal and then argued with him, and felt another jolt of shock as he raised his wand against her and heard him say '_Obliviate.' _Only this time it didn't all fade away.

Instead, Hermione came back to reality as she woke back up with a gasp in her bedroom, clutching her chest. She knew that Severus Snape was alive.

* * *

><p>Hermione felt her chest heaving with a panic of sudden realisation as it all came flooding back to assault her once again.<p>

_He was alive. _

Her first, instinctive reaction was one of intense happiness, mixed up with the shock of it, and she struggled not to suddenly giggle out loud at the unexpected yet welcome revelation.

But then the happiness turned to sobriety as her dismay at the contents of the conversation they had had registered. How dare he Obliviate her and take all her choices away? He didn't want her to save him and had taken extreme measures to ensure that she wouldn't think to try. Where was he? Where had he been since the war? She had to find him.

No – wait; she had to save him first. Before he could find out that she knew about him and tried to stop her again. And with that Hermione's resolve was set. She was determined to do all she could to save Severus Snape, as he had told her she would.

But almost as soon as her resolve was fired, to save him, to bring him back to the world, reality struck and she was brought to despair. She hardly even knew where to begin. How does one go about inventing a new way of going back in time; and bringing someone back from the dead? She felt like laughing with hysteria at even the suggestion. She was no inventor. Not like he was with all his self-made spells and potions and…

Merlin, this was all too much to think about. But she was determined that she would find a way.

With a steeled heart Hermione roused herself from the bed and went to clear away the mess she had made making the potion that had brought her memories back to her. She retrieved the spell book from the kitchen, and after using _Scourgify _to quickly clean all her utensils and the cauldron, she went to return the book to the shelves, no longer having any more use for it.

Just as she was putting it back on the shelf her eyes tagged along the one below and that's when she caught sight of something else that she had forgotten about…

The _Theories of Timeturners_ volume that she had picked up on the shopping trip with Luna the other day was still sitting there, just where she had left it a day earlier. She snatched it up immediately and looked over it with rising excitement.

Of course! If there was anything that could help her create a modified time-turner that would take her back further, then it would be something like this; that could explain to her the creation of them in the first place. Hermione couldn't believe how lucky she had been to come across the book; this was surely how she would come to save Snape, if indeed she had been responsible, as he had seemed to think she was… How had she forgotten about it? With all the excitement she hadn't even looked through it since she bought it.

Well that would change this instant.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was quite worn out once he again reached the lonely confines of the stone Mill. Really, having to apparate across continents twice in as many days took it out of you a bit. It would obviously have been more beneficial to floo most of the way, but international floo transport was recorded, and he couldn't have people finding out he was still alive. That would cancel out all his efforts.<p>

He looked around the dismal room without any enthusiasm. The biting wind was poorly shuttered out of such a ruin but it would just about keep for a bit longer; as long as he needed anyway. He didn't plan on being alive much longer, after all.

He eyed the space he had left in haste earlier on in distaste. The potion that he had barely remembered to cast a stasis charm over was still smoking quietly under it's protection; but it could wait. He had only been brewing in the first place to distract himself, and that obviously hadn't been working. He was still too restless to settle back to it. Then there was the rickety little table he had scavenged, blackened wood and barely holding together. It was scattered with parchment and vials for the potion; he cast another sturdiness charm on the leg that was prone to giving out as he was looking at it, deciding that he didn't want to have to pick all the ingredients off the floor if they went flying. There also lay his old journal; the one he had kept in the last couple of years in the run up to the last battle, where he had met his fate. He had never written anything in it that final night, though, after he had received the visit from the ghostly Hermione and had his instructions to stage his death before the morning came and brought a summation to the fighting. But she had still had it. Who knows how it might have influenced her had he left it in her possession. No. He had done the right thing by Obliviating her and stealing it back. Definitely right.

The only other piece of furniture in the room was the poorly made wooden bed and the meagre bundle of single sheets and rags piled up on it to try and lend a bit of warmth. He crossed over to it and threw himself down on the thing with complete despondency, staring up at the ceiling and trying to blank his mind. He didn't care about anything any more, and consequently felt moved to do nothing with his time. Nothing except try and distract himself from wondering about _her_ too much.

_Two years. _

He had driven himself mad in that time trying to figure out the slip of a girl who had saved him. Why had she done it, what possible motive could there have been in her mind? At first he had felt the overwhelming desire to run away from the place and his life, escape to anywhere where he hadn't had to suffer and where he couldn't be himself.

So he had done that for a while. But then time had worn on and he had found himself stuck. Not knowing how to be now that all his purpose had suddenly disappeared with the wind. He found himself floundering, not wanting to reveal to the world that he was still alive and have to face all the drama or scrutiny. But not knowing how to start from scratch. He was too damaged for that. He drifted. He had only been driven by the idea that he might still have some purpose, that it meant something that he was still there. That somehow, she might care…

So he had started trying to find out some of what was going on back home. Trying to find out about her; what she was up to; and trying to work out when in the future she would be making her trip back to save him.

That was also when he had started combing the world for news of the other Death Eaters. If he was still here, he might as well contribute to ridding the world of the rest of the scum that had somehow managed to elude capture. But he hadn't picked any off for a while now. The remaining trails had gone cold.

Then he had had even more time to contemplate his old student. Finally unable to take not knowing, he had travelled back to England to try and catch a glimpse of her now. But that first time he had seen her again had been a shock to the system. He had been expecting the girl he had taught and had been… ill prepared for the beauty of the woman he had seen in front of him. So much like the ghost-Hermione that had been to see him; was it soon that she would discover the way to time-travel? Fuelled with panic, he had rushed in and revealed himself.

And hence he had arrived at all the mess that he was now in.

With frustration he picked himself back off the bed again. Was this what it was going to be like now until the end? Not a moment's peace, unable to take his mind anywhere else? He knew his mind had softened towards her in recent months, but not this much, that a single conversation and a few stolen glimpses of her could undo him this much. He was pathetic.

He cast his eyes around for something that could really occupy him, and noticed the canvas hunting bag he had slung carelessly over the back of the chair hooked between the table and the wall. Snatching it up desperately he took off out the door with it in a painful triumph. Around the abandoned Mill there was plenty of forest and terrain housing a plethora of potions ingredients. He went foraging to gather them himself; it was one of the most enjoyable ways he had found to occupy his time; being out alone amongst nature, so solitary yet wild and refreshing. He could almost say he didn't mind his life at those points. And best for his present state; it didn't require much thinking but could keep him busy for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Hermione was awash in the complexities of time and magical theory. The book now in her possession was absolutely amazing. She wondered again as she had in the shop how it had come to be there. This was unspeakable-level, highly classified magical theory – in it were chapter after chapter on magical properties pertinent to timeturners, arithmantic calculations, schematics of time-turners and complex latin spellwork. She discovered in minutiae the charms cast over the turner and the way in which the silver was imbued with characteristics allowing it to pull a person through time.<p>

It was all amazing; but Hermione was still baffled about what she could do with all this information. She may, with time, understand more about why each part of a timeturner was designed and charmed as it was – but she was no inventor.

She had had an idea, as she slowly turned the pages and absorbed bits of information, which she had initially brushed aside without much consideration. But the more she saw, the less she was able to deny that she needed help. But could she really turn to _him?_

Well, Ginny trusted him. And if there was anyone else that might understand her desire to help Snape, maybe it might be him.

She was going to have to go back to Wales.

* * *

><p>Once she had apparated back to the Frog &amp; Lily she stood for a moment, torn. She wanted to go straight to see Draco and save wasting any time; but the less people that knew about her mission to save Snape, the better. She didn't want Ginny to know what she was doing. That was the difficult part; how would Draco trust her or be inclined to help if she made him keep it all secret? Oh well, she had to at least try.<p>

Coming to a decision she fired off her Patronus and instead returned to her own room, shutting herself in and pacing up and down the faded red carpet of the hotel room.

She didn't have to wait long. There was a knock on the room door after about ten minutes.

Snape's argument for Obliviating her had partly rested on the fact that there were still Death Eaters out there who would love to get their hands on such an item once it existed as what she was proposing. And here she was about to tell one about it willingly. He would have a fit.

Opening the door she revealed Draco standing in the hallway looking unhappy. Hermione smiled uncomfortably at him as he scowled at her, also looking a bit curious and confused.

"So what is this all about, Granger?" he asked in a mocking tone, and it was all she could do not to roll her eyes. Some people never changed completely. This was obviously his attempt at politeness, however, or as close as he was going to get, so she strove for patience with her reply and adopted a polite tone of voice in return,

"Draco, Thank you for coming. I realise this is all just a bit out of the ordinary, but well… you look well? How have you been?" she faltered and didn't quite know where to look. This was all just a bit bizarre, trying to be nice and friendly to your ex-arch-enemy who you haven't seen for over two years…

He looked at her in actual disbelieving amusement, but replied humouringly, "I am… very well, I suppose, under the circumstances. Now that I have Ginny… well everything is looking up for the first time in a long time, shall we say," he paused, again looking puzzled. "What _is _this about, though; why did you want to speak to me without Ginny?"

"Yes, well… you had better come in. This is going to take some explaining," Hermione stood aside so that he could enter the room and then carefully closed the door behind them, turning back to face him. He stood awkwardly just inside the entrance, so she motioned to the little coffee table and two wicker chairs that stood over to one side of the room. He gladly went to take one of them and she perched lightly in the other, facing him seriously.

"The thing is, _Draco," _she began, testing out his Christian name on her tongue,_ "_I… I think I need your help."

"You need my help? What on earth with?" Draco just looked perplexed. "Ginny told me about your memory loss but I-"

"Oh, it's nothing to do with that," Hermione rushed to explain to him. "Well, I mean, it is related I suppose, but… oh, let me start at the beginning. It's confusing enough as it is," she gushed.

Draco just waited expectantly, eyebrows raised. Hermione tried to take a moment to collect her thoughts.

"I got my memory back from last night," she began slowly.

"You did?" Draco frowned. "How did that happen?"

Hermione blushed, dropping her gaze guiltily. "Well, I sort of went back to my flat-"

"Which Ginny told you specifically not to do?" Draco drawled immediately. "Oh, of course you did, how could one of the _Golden Trio _resist doing something they were specifically warned against?"

"Look- I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, and I don't see why you'd care anyway," Hermione rose heatedly to his scathing remark,

"I _don't _care, Granger; by all means, go and get yourself into danger, don't mind me," Draco retorted.

Hermione gave a 'hmph' sound and folded her arms petulantly. Like this had been a good idea. It was never going to work. But she grudgingly continued anyway after a moment.

"I went to retrieve a book that I thought might have a remedy for memory loss in it," she explained shortly. "It worked, so now I know what happened to me; okay?"

"and what has this got to do with anything?" Draco drawled impatiently. "Did you find out anything interesting or are we ever going to actually get to the point of this lovely little reunion?"

Hermione glared daggers at him.

"I found out the most-" she began, but stopped abruptly. "I'm not sure you will believe me if I tell you," she hesitated.

"Then what in Merlin's name did you call me here for?" Draco snapped. "I do have things to do besides listen to you – you, not telling me much at all!"

"Ginny told me that you are an inventor of sorts," Hermione ventured.

Draco frowned in confusion, thrown by the sudden change of topic. "Yes…" he started slowly. "…why do you want to know about that?"

"Because…" Hermione frowned. How much could she realistically not tell him so that he could still help her? He would have to know completely what it was or he wouldn't be able to do anything. "Because I want to create a new charm that will send me back in time," she blurted out in one gushing sentence, embarrassed by how ludicrous it must sound to just declare something as fanciful as that.

It was a long time before Draco said anything to that. He was clearly bewildered by the conversation and struggling to come up with what to say to that.

"You mean, a timeturner?"

"Not just a normal timeturner, something much stronger than that," she clarified.

"Stronger how?"

"I… need to go back… further than normal."

Draco's expression darkened. "How much further are we talking, exactly?" his voice had gained a hard, icy edge to it.

Hermione gulped, not knowing how he could possibly take this well and wondering how on earth she could ever explain. "Um… It would be, I guess, two years, give or take?" she ended meekly, wincing as even she said it.

Draco's face had taken on a dangerous hardness and he scoffed at her, "Why the hell would I help you make something like that, Granger, if – if it was even possible, which I doubt! What… what the hell would make you so desperate that you wanted to do that, even, risk – risk everything… what in Merlin's name are you thinking about?" He stood up, too angry to sit still, evidently. "two years ago? I… why? _Why?" _

She took a deep breath, considering her options. It was integral that he understand her reasons, but was also reassured. She had given this some thought since starting to read _Theories of Timeturners. _All of Severus's arguments had not been lost on her.

"I only want to change one thing- one thing that i… I have already changed," she begun, but she knew she wasn't making enough sense.

"How do you mean _you have already changed?_"

Deep breath, Hermione. She was going to have to go all in if he was going to understand.

"Draco. Listen to me. This is going to sound crazy. But Severus Snape is still alive. And I am responsible."

* * *

><p>As always, I would love to hear your thoughts.<p>

Obviously, Draco is going to have _beyond _reservations about this, or he is going towant tochange more, and save more people, but Hermione has a few safeguards worked into her plan since she remembered all of her conversation with Snape. I haven't written beyond this yet so I'm hoping that I don't have to come back and edit any of this conversation, but it should work out all right and I'll let you know at the start of the next chapter if I have to change anything.


	7. Resurfacing

AN- _I _amresurfacing, like Hermione's memories. I am sorry for my long absence from this story; it is really not good enough. I will try to pick up the writing pace for the next chapter; I don't mean to be stringing this out so slowly! Thanks for every review, they really mean a lot to me and I will continue writing this for you because you give me such good feedback. Disclaimer – I do not own these characters, this is just for all of our non-profit amusement. Enjoy

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 7 – Resurfacing**

Draco's face had taken on a dangerous hardness and he scoffed at her, "Why the hell would I help you make something like that, Granger, if – if it was even possible, which I doubt! What… what the hell would make you so desperate that you wanted to do that, even, risk – risk everything… what in Merlin's name are you thinking about?" He stood up, too angry to sit still, evidently. "two years ago? I… why? _Why?" _

She took a deep breath, considering her options. It was integral that he understand her reasons, but was also reassured. She had given this some thought since starting to read _Theories of Timeturners. _All of Severus's arguments had not been lost on her.

"I only want to change one thing- one thing that i… I have already changed," she begun, but she knew she wasn't making enough sense.

"How do you mean _you have already changed?_"

Deep breath, Hermione. She was going to have to go all in if he was going to understand.

"Draco. Listen to me. This is going to sound crazy. But Severus Snape is still alive. And I am responsible."

* * *

><p>For a heartbeat everything hung upon Hermione's revelation.<p>

She wasn't sure if he believed her; his face was a smooth, emotionless mask as ever as the words sunk in.

"I don't get – what are you trying to say?" Draco's voice was unsure but incredulous. "Snape? This is about him? You want to save Severus Snape. Am I getting this correct?"

"Draco. I am telling you that _i have already saved him_. I know it sounds ridiculous but I saw him; he's alive and he's real… and I know I go back and change things to make it happen without anyone knowing. Only I need your help to do that. I- do you see?"

"No. I- no, not really," he mumbled faintly, sitting back down in the wicker chair. "So; what you're saying is, that you have seen Snape, recently. Back from the dead. Miraculously."

"…Yes."

"And because of this, you need to go back in time and rescue him, or he _won't _be ok again?"

"Uh… I guess that is what I am saying, yes,"

"You're mad, Granger. You're stark raving lunatic-mad. None of this makes sense. If Snape was alive we'd know about it. And even if you _could _save him, why in the name of Merlin would you want to risk _everything _to do that? You can't create a time-turner powerful enough to go back to the war. You could change everything. Everything, goddamnit. I'm not going through any of that again." He shook his head vehemently, looking quite mad himself at the thought of it.

"Funny. He asked me exactly the same question. You sound just like he did; he was just as mad that I brought him back, if not worse. That's why he wiped my memories of it. Look. It is only because I know that it has already happened that I know I wouldn't be unravelling the timeline as we know it; we wouldn't be able to change anything else, or we would be risking too much," Hermione babbled.

Draco stared at her as if she was off her rocker. "_He _wiped your memories?" He echoed faintly. "I need to lie down."

"I know," she said helplessly, "this is all too complicated to handle. I can hardly understand it either."

They were both silent for a while, Hermione giving Draco some time to digest everything she had said. It seemed to be sinking in.

"Where is he, then?" he asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Where is he? Snape? If he is alive and he wiped your memories last night; where is he now?" he repeated.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I wish I did. Obviously he still thinks I don't remember anything; I suppose he's gone back into hiding or wherever he's been these last couple of years.

"How do you know you have- will- save him then?"

Hermione shrugged slightly. "He told me I was the one that saved him in his past, and that I would in my future. That's all I know,"

"Granger, this is all slightly dubious, don't you think? How do you know you didn't just hallucinate him up from your dreams or something? After all, that is a more likely explanation for the appearance of a man who has been dead for over _two years_. Awfully long time to hide,"

"He's alive, alright?" she countered angrily. "and I plan on keeping it that way." After a moment she added, as it occurred to her; "and that's exactly what you've managed to do, hide for that long, isn't it? So it's easily possible,"

"and just how do you think I'm going to be of help with that anyway?" Draco asked sceptically. "I may invent things, but I can't just work _miracles, _no matter how much magic I know,"

As answer Hermione turned her back on him and strode across the room to the desk, fetching the timeturners book and then striding back, to throw it at him. Draco caught the manuscript as it thumped into his chest with barely more than an ill-concealed glare at her and turned it round to consider it. When he saw the title he froze, his gaze becoming very impassive as he immediately shifted, sitting more upright in his seat and maneuvering the book into both hands so that he could open it.

He sheafed through pages, looking increasingly mesmerised. "Where on earth did you acquire this? I-I've never seen anything like it,"

"Change things?" Hermione asked sweetly, smirking. "I found it in a used bookstore – completely by chance. Only remembered it after I got my memories back earlier. Serendipity? It proves what he told me about saving him- because we have this knowledge that could actually make it true,"

"What is with all this _'we'_, Granger?" Draco sighed exasperatedly, distracted still by the book in his hands.

"You will help me, right?" Hermione asked anxiously. "I mean, come on; what are the chances? I find that book in a dusty old shop, and then that very night, Snape turns up in my apartment saying I somehow managed to go back in time and save him? And you're an inventor who can actually help me create one of those things… it's meant to be, Mal- Draco. We're meant to do this, can't you see?"

Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pale hand and looking more than a bit vexed, frustrated and doubtful all at once.

"Granger… even with this book, I don't know how in Merlin's realm we are meant to pull this off… it's a lot you're asking, and I… I can barely even consider the possibility of allowing you to go back there in case it changes something else… I… I'd do a lot to change a lot of things in the past, but not at the risk of bringing _him _back…" he broke off, shuddering and closing his eyes in obvious horror.

Hermione gave an involuntary shudder of her own, just watching him and considering it herself. But she had never felt anything with as much conviction and certainty as she had about this; that she was meant to go back there, that she would achieve her goal, and that nothing else in the timeline would slip or change. Because it couldn't, right? If Snape was already alive, then she had already succeeded once. She just had to follow it through and it would still work out fine.

But it was a whole hell of a lot to ask from Draco, she knew that. He had every right to think that she had gone round the twist and not to trust a word that she said. Her story could not get much more unbelievable, really.

She cleared her throat subtly and sat a little straighter, stiff with the tension and hope that he would agree to help her. She had to convey her own sense of certainty. "I won't let that happen, Draco. _I won't. _And I know we can achieve it. I've seen the goddamned evidence and had it turn a wand against me in the last twenty-four hours, for Merlin's sake."

Draco snorted. "And you want to save him?"

Hermione gave him a wry smile. Then she let that hang in the air between them, waiting for Draco's verdict. Was she mad? Or would he help her? He was silent and still in his chair, impassive in every respect; it was like trying to read a stone, for all the emotion or thought he leaked, and she found herself growing impatient, as tightly strung as she already was. She wondered what she could say to convince him.

"He was- that is, he is your Godfather, isn't he? Snape? Surely if there is a chance we can save him, you want to help me do so… don't you?" She asked gently.

He gave a sudden startled glance up at her, breaking out of his contemplation on the quandary she had set before him. "Yes, I didn't know you knew that though. He did… he did save my life that year…" he broke off suddenly in embarrassment, and they both knew what the unspoken boggart in the room was. Snape had killed Dumbledore to save him. Well, not _only _to save him, but he had done it, and under an unbreakable oath to protect his godson. "Of course, I would owe him a debt to try and save his life in return for saving mine, if it was at all possible, but…"

"So _help me,"_ Hermione pleaded, stretching out and laying her hand over his, beseechingly. "Please."

Draco flinched at the contact and looked even more startled, but he did not pull away.

"We must be insane," he stated flatly. "Both of us."

Hermione broke out into a wide grin and it was all she could do to stop herself from throwing herself at him and giving him a massive hug in gratitude, but she held back, seeing how uncomfortable he had been with even the hand thing.

"I know it's going to be a lot of hard work, but I have faith in this," she gasped with conviction, trying not to get too excited and hold it all down a little longer in front of Malfoy.

Draco looked bleakly at her, obviously not possessing the same certitude that she did, and already looking slightly like he regretted this insane task now put before him.

"Granger… there is another problem we will have to overcome. I'm back here to face my past, and I'll be facing a trial just as soon as I make myself known again. I don't know how I'm going to be able to help you in this endeavour with all that going on. They might lock me up."

"That isn't going to happen, either, Draco. Not with Harry on your side," Hermione said, frowning. "If I can get us a space to work, we can make a start in the next few days, before you hand yourself in," she began, bouncing up out of the chair and starting up a pace while she thought furiously, strategies starting to form and develop in her head and consuming her. "Then you might be detained until a trial, it's true, but I'm sure they won't want to drag it out so that will happen fairly quickly on its own. During which time I can carry on with what we will have started and do research. With a little bit of help we might even be able to swing it so you don't have to be detained; with witnesses vouching for you like Ginny and Harry and I they might be persuaded…"

Draco watched her furious progress to and fro across the carpet with a hint of amusement. "Are you always like this when something needs doing?" he asked, smirking slightly.

"Like what?" she frowned, only giving him half an ear as she was obviously still thinking about her plans.

"So single-mindedly determined on your work?" he put to her, definitely smirking now. "With such a whirlwind as you on my side I'm feeling more and more confident about my chances," he drawled. "In fact, it's no surprise you can bring a man back from the dead; when Hermione Granger puts her mind to something what will stop her?" he flourished sarcastically, but with enough amusement that she took it well, only glaring in mock-annoyance at him and retorting;

"I'll take that as a compliment, Malfoy."

* * *

><p>A long way away and oblivious to the conversation being undertaken about his rescue, Severus was single minded in his own mission, gathering plants for potions ingredients in the woodland around his makeshift home. It was an ideal task for little thinking; with strenuous exercise and room for precious else; including his recently roiling emotions. He had thrown himself into the undertaking with a vigour he did not have for much these days, and trekked quite a way to forage for some asphodel and valerian roots, both of which grew in patches on a hillside a few miles from the ruinous mill. He had also collected a fair amount of peppermint, fluxweed and ginger, and was overall rather satisfied with his day's work.<p>

Turning back towards the hills in the direction of the mill and noting the low aspect of the sun as it descended towards the horizon and into dusk, he began the trek to return him to his place of residence, and sighed inwardly. At some point he was going to have to address everything he had learned on his little reconnaissance trip and figure out what to do, if anything, about Miss Granger and her friends.

Maybe he should just lie low for a little while. It hadn't seemed as if Hermione was in any danger of figuring out what had happened to her the other night, even if her friends did make her grow suspicious about it. Continuously going back there to check up on her was only going to increase the risk that he expose himself; and really; when he was so much closer to finally resolving his petty existence now with the removal of the diary and her memories, what was the point in that? He may just have to trust the dust to settle down.

It had shaken him more than he had anticipated, seeing all those people from his past earlier. Little Ginny Weasley, all grown up, and his Godson, whom he had never again expected to encounter, had been only a hair's breadth away from him, and then there was Hermione herself.

_Miss Granger. _He corrected himself internally. When had she become Hermione to his mind? He couldn't place the slip, but it was clear he had regressed a long while ago when his thoughts had started to become preoccupied by her increasing enigma.

That was a good word for her. She was an enigma to him. Her motives were an enigma. That was why she was so dangerous to him; because he _still_, after all this time, could not figure out why she had chosen to save him. Had she saved others without his knowing about it? Was she just a busybody who could not stay out of anyone's damn business? He didn't want her help; he hadn't needed it.

But, no, that was a lie. He had needed it desperately; he had been desperate when she showed up in his office that afternoon; ready to go to desperate measures. Merlin, he had already gone to desperate measures, but he was alone and he had no idea what he was doing. She had appeared... heaven sent. She looked angelic, and she had clearly been an apparition of sorts; heck, she had been almost transparent and had that odd, echoe-y voice. But he had clutched at her help, still, like a man drowning, and followed her orders, and it had been his salvation. It had got him out of there.

Why did he keep replaying this now? It was over. It should not have happened. It wouldn't happen. It would be erased soon enough. A mistake.

He resolved to keep to the mill for a few days and let things blow over.

* * *

><p>"You don't want me to tell Gin what we're up to, do you?" Draco questioned her shrewdly. They had been talking plans for a good half an hour; Hermione once started was a difficult force to quell, as Draco had so rightly perceived.<p>

"No," Hermione admitted after a brief hesitation. Draco immediately made to object to this flat answer, opening his mouth half way with his finger raised to make a point quite comically, but Hermione bit him off before he could even start, "-and I _know, _I'm sorry to have to ask you to keep this from her, especially so early on in your relationship and with the trial and all, but I really don't think any people more than necessary should know what we're trying to achieve before It has been achieved," she said fretfully, wringing her hands in front of her.

"She's hardly anybody, though, is she? And people are going to find out sooner or later if he just magically reappears; I think we can trust Ginny on the secret,"

"I would trust Ginny with anything, Draco, honestly. That's not the problem; I'm more afraid of what she'll think and of her trying to stop us from attempting it," she started.

Draco snorted. "I can't keep it from her, Hermione." He stated, brooking any room for argument.

"I'm sorry, but you have to," Hermione argued back, with an edge of steel to her voice. "I'll talk to her, and say I need your help with something, but I won't be telling her what it is either. Trust me, she'll be alright with it, I'll make sure of it. I'm not asking you to keep it from her forever, Malfoy, just until it's done and then there won't be a need for secrecy; the plan _will not work _if _anyone _at all knows what we are up to. If you want to save him as much as I do, you'll agree to this."

Draco looked seriously aggrieved but she could tell she had put enough force behind her words that he knew he would never get her to back down on this. "Besides," she added, "I'm hoping we can achieve this in a minimum of time; it wouldn't do for Snape himself to get wind of what I was doing and try and stop me again; he wouldn't be too happy if he knew I had my memories back and was trying to save his life," she said all cheerfully and matter-of-fact.

"Hang on a second," Malfoy interjected. "Let's just backtrack a minute, shall we? Snape doesn't even _want _to be saved?" he asked incredulously. "I mean I know you said he erased your memories, but… you're telling me you're willing to risk all our hides to save the life of someone who is most likely going to murder us in our beds as thanks when he finds out and goes completely mental on us?" he hissed furiously.

"Not an unlikely scenario," Hermione admitted with a wince. "But he's being saved whether he likes it or not, so you can shut up and not talk to anyone about it, and the sooner we achieve it the better."

"This is mental." Draco said hoarsely. "You're mental, you know that?"

"I'm a determined Gryffindor," she smiled ruefully.

Just for a moment, Hermione let all her newly recovered memories of Severus Snape, gloriously alive and his unmistakeable, tetchy self, swim up and envelop her, and smiled. Yes, she was going to make sure he lived.

* * *

><p>Not a particularly long comeback i know but I'm working on it. Please leave a review and I'll try and post again soon. Also, if anyone would like to beta this I'd love a second opinion before I post; PM me.<p> 


	8. Time Manipulation

AN - Here i am posting twice in one week. Marvellous, isn't it? And you'll be pleased to know i am now _slightly _ahead with the writing of this fic so i will definitely be posting chapter 9 next week to follow on from this. Once again, thank you so much to everyone who has left a review this week or put Resurrection on story alert; it is nice to know that you are along for the ride, and i hope you like the chapter. Disclaimer – I own nothing, sadly.

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 8 – Time Manipulation**

"Hang on a second," Malfoy interjected. "Let's just backtrack a minute, shall we? Snape doesn't even _want _to be saved?" he asked incredulously. "I mean I know you said he erased your memories, but… you're telling me you're willing to risk all our hides to save the life of someone who is most likely going to murder us in our beds as thanks when he finds out and goes completely mental on us?" he hissed furiously.

"Not an unlikely scenario," Hermione admitted with a wince. "But he's being saved whether he likes it or not, so you can shut up and not talk to anyone about it, and the sooner we achieve it the better."

"This is mental." Draco said hoarsely. "You're mental, you know that?"

"I'm a determined Gryffindor," she smiled ruefully.

Just for a moment, Hermione let all her newly recovered memories of Severus Snape, gloriously alive and his unmistakeable, tetchy self, swim up and envelop her, and smiled. Yes, she was going to make sure he lived.

* * *

><p>Hermione had had a whole day and a half since waking up in the B&amp;B and speaking to Ginny, before she had made a hasty retreat to her own flat and begun planning in earnest. First she had had to go and see Harry and speak to him about what they could do together to help Draco. He had been a bit confused by her earnestness to help their former enemy but supposed that, like him, she merely saw the good in Malfoy and wanted the best for Ginny, and was therefore eager to do her part to help him, without ulterior motive. It had been easy to get him to agree to her strategy. With herself, Harry, and Ginny all walking in to the ministry with Draco it would all hopefully go a lot smoother.<p>

Then had been a floo call to Neville to clear the use of his house, since he wasn't using it currently. No one would bother them there and Neville had a massive space they could utilise as a lab just off of his conservatory, which he used to harvest and catalogue his plants.

After which she had had the rest of the day to come to terms with her memories and everything that she had learned and suddenly resolved to do. She had launched herself into an undertaking she could hardly have comprehended a few days ago. Then she had just been… admiring of a man whose fate she regretted, knowing the truth of his allegiances and loyalties and his sacrifice. Just a lonely woman reading a dead man's journal. Now she was fired by… this intense purpose, the knowledge that his death was needless and she could _change _it, and nobody else.

But… he had been so snarky and… and vicious, when she had tried to reach out to him and he had instead Obliviated her memories. He was such a contradiction; he had been looking for answers; so alive, and calm, and glittering eyes searching her face for those answers; and then he had been clinically discussing his own life with detachment and telling her he wasn't to be saved, and so downright _angry_ about it.

Hermione shivered in recollection. She had woken up the past two mornings since her memory retrieval from dreams about their encounter. It was replaying in her head, it seemed, every night, now that she could remember it; so vivid and clear had the memories come gushing back. It was like they were trying to compensate for their absence by forcing themselves upon her dreams ever since. She replayed again in her dream his touch, his wariness, his eyes as they sought out the truth from her.

With a pang she remembered the loss of the journal. He had taken it back from her. That was why she hadn't been able to find it or summon it with a spell. It was with him, wherever he was, and no longer in her flat. She wondered where that was. How could he have disappeared so thoroughly for the past _two years?_ She had to find him. Even if she brought him back in the past, he would also clearly need to be brought back in the present too. He was clearly in hiding and not about to reveal his vitality to the wizarding world again, even if she did bring him back to life. There was no point doing so if he just hid away and refused to acknowledge anyone or anything. She would resurrect him in more ways than one. She would somehow give him some reason to want to come back and rejoin the world of the living.

How on earth she would manage any of this, she had no idea. It seemed she was giving herself an ever increasing list of impossible tasks.

Draco had managed to stay hidden for so long by being on another continent, far away from the wizarding community that were searching for him. Is that how Snape was managing it too? Of course, no one had known he was alive, like Draco, and therefore no-one had been looking for him; maybe he had not had to go to such extreme measures to stay hidden. He could quite easily be on some unplottable, unfindable piece of land, hiding away in self-sufficiency right here in their midst. Oh, this was impossible. How would she even begin to find a man so intent on not being found?

She would have to retreat to her place of all answers; the library. Books held a lot of answers; maybe they would give her one for this problem. Hermione added it to her internal list of things to research.

* * *

><p>When Draco arrived through the floo as specified, into the Longbottom household, it was to find Hermione standing on a table in a dusty sunlit room; her back to him, while she drew a large schematic of a time turner on a pinned up piece of wallpaper and was labelling several parts in small block letters; with their various spelled properties and reasons for being thus. She noted his arrival and threw the quill onto the desk, jumping down off the table to come and greet him.<p>

"… Did you know that Irion Ingelby theorized that there were five colours of time that could imbue a spell to connect with the five _aspects_ of time; that of ancient past, past, present, future and far-future…?"

"Hello to you too," Draco snarled grumpily, taking in the strange dusty room and the huge conservatory he could spy through a pair of wide, flung back glass doors; through which was burning the bright streams of sunlight which highlighted the swirling motes of dust in this far shabbier room annexed to it. The conservatory was high and vast and completely teeming with plant-life; there were vines crawling up the green slats across the glass windows and pots trailing over with just about every magical specimen he thought he had heard of. It was probably at least three times the size of the mostly bare, whitewashed room he had flooed into, via a greyed and modest fireplace opposite the French doors. He tore his eyes away from the strange neighbouring room and turned to inspect the one Hermione clearly meant for them to use to set up the lab in. Apart from the hearth, there was two rows of sturdy wooden tables; one against the wall, which Hermione had been using to stand on and attach her large magical diagram of the time instrument they would be chiefly looking to replicate and adapt. The other row stood more in the centre of the room, perpendicular to the doorway and creating an aisle from the conservatory – clearly this was some sort of work room associated with the cultivation of the plants next door.

"I was thinking that we could look into using the colour associations within magic to make our time turner more connected to the specific time I want to go back to," Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard him.

Draco shook his head, unable to launch straight into all of this technical magic as he was still wondering at his surrounds. "Granger – where the hell is this, anyway? You only gave me the address."

"It's Neville's house," she shrugged. "He's away at the moment and not using it; he said he didn't mind if I take it over for my project,"

"I'm in _Longbottom's _house?" He asked, looking appalled. "Does he know I'm in his house?"

"Of course, not, you great prat; like I was going to tell him that I'd be hiding a former death eater come refugee here during the day while he helps me figure out a way to go the past and rescue his favourite teacher," she laughed derisively.

Draco snorted, "No, guess that wouldn't be the best news." He looked around again with a renewed interest and made an expression of distaste. "Not very clean, is it?"

Hermione made a noise of exasperation and flicked her wand, banishing some of the fine layer of dirt. "Its just dust, Draco; Neville's been away for quite a while; and the plants can water themselves with a couple of charms,"

"I don't care anyway; let's just get on with this, shall we?" he asked, moving more into the room and up the aisle towards the middle desk upon which Hermione seemed to have heaped a mass of notes scribbled in her own handwriting, books pertaining to a wide range of charm-work and the open _Theories of Timeturners _at the centre of it all. He tried without much success to hide his fascination as he started flicking through the book again. Hermione watched interestedly.

"You really do love this stuff, don't you?" she noted his immediate absorption with the material. "Funny, never would have had you down for this sort of thing."

He gave a wry smirk in response. "Snape taught me from a young age as his godson. Not all just potions either. He was all about the importance of independent and intuitive thinking. I guess he rubbed off on me a bit," he huffed an amused breath. "I've discovered something I am good at, something where I can forget about all the past and just… create," he finished quietly.

Hermione thought about that. Yes, she had been so mesmerised by that intuitiveness in Snape's journal and even in the Half Blood Prince text; all those early spells and experiments of his, not that she had known they were his at that point. Independent thinking. Right. Time to try and put all of her study of his methods to use and do some independent thinking of her own. It was time to create their own brand-new piece of magic. She had never been good at this and felt more than a little intimidated by the prospect. She decided to let Draco the seasoned inventor point them off in the right direction.

"So where do you want to start with all this?" She asked tentatively, waving her arms to encompass her notes and the diagram and the books- everything they had thus far.

Draco was bent over the book, and started to flick back to the opening chapters, looking for something. "I take it you have already memorised the entire thing, given your exuberance when I came in," he drawled. "But I haven't more than skimmed this yet, obviously, so I'm going to need some time to read through all of the information it gives us and come up with a proper plan. But first things first; if we are going to be making a kind of time turner but modified, we are going to need a lot of supplies to actually _make _a timeturner and experiment with. I mean, I need the equipment to actually forge the thing; or rather, a whole lot of prototypes that we can play around with and adjust and throw out as we work out what we are doing, and then there are the metals themselves."

"The metals?" Hermione queried.

"Yes. The metals." He confirmed. "A true timeturner is made from silver, but I think that therein may lie some of the answers in terms of the modifications we are going to have to make to the traditional model; I'd like to try and experiment with forging a timeturner from a few more… magically imbued metals and alloys. See how much of a difference that makes to the strength. Whatever else we do we are at least going to have to increase the original magnitude for strength in the turner or it just won't be able to magically reach as far back as two years ago. I'll have to run a few arithmantic calculations to see how it will affect things…"

"Right," Hermione nodded, wide-eyed. It was all rather overwhelming. "I can help with running arithmancy models if you show me what you want set up,"

Draco nodded. "When we come to that part, that will be helpful. But first of all I'm going to need you to source some supplies."

* * *

><p>They worked for two days solid to become familiar with the traditional practice of creating a timeturner, and then trying to think of ways that they might enhance it. Hermione had been racking her brain raw for all the things she had ever learnt about magical properties of this and that in a bid to understand how a stronger time turner might be created. She had had no idea that so much work could go into one tiny, magical object such as the one she had possessed in her third year. There was layer upon layer of complex enchantment set on the little silver objects to make them capable of travelling through time, and taking a person with them. Then there was the forging itself, which had to be done using localised compressive force spells to meld and shape the metal all the while pouring magic into the process by chanting incantations. And according to <em>Theories of Timeturners, <em>the crystals in the hourglass were specially harvested from a type of crystalline rock formed only by the heat of a dragon's fiery breath, and then stirred into a potion that took three days to make in order to be imbued with yet more magical properties. The potion to do this also required several highly expensive or rare ingredients that she did not have the first idea, at present, how to procure.

She supposed she must always have known that it was _difficult _to create something so magical; to achieve something like time travel; but still. She was flabbergasted by everything they would just have to replicate, never mind modifying the process to create a stronger version of it. She was very relieved that she had Draco, who turned out to be invaluable in his experience in forging and in interpreting the sometimes cryptic explanations in the book as to why something was done this way or that.

For "It's only if we can understand the logic behind every step of the creation of the original piece that we can hope to modify it in the correct way to do what we want it to do," he said over and over again. Hermione had never thought so much before about _why _a counter clockwise stir was added to a potion or _why _a flick had to be added to the end of an incantation. But Draco was by now well versed in the reasonings behind many of these things and could work out much more quickly than she could how to tweak something to change the results.

That was the other thing about this project that made it so difficult. It used so many disciplines. To create this one object they were going to have to employ the art of potions, charms and arithmancy, so it was a good job that they were both proficient in all three; and the forging aspect that Draco would be doing was a lesser branch of Transfiguration; but she had no experience whatsoever in that and was glad to be leaving it entirely to Draco to transform the metals she acquired into prototype timeturner shells.

He had asked her to retrieve Damascus Steel, Adamantine, and Magnesium to try experiments on. Of course, while the former two were either lost and legendary or mythical to the muggle world Hermione had grown up in, they were well documented and utilised in wizarding society, while Magnesium, known for its lightness, strength and reactivity, made an excellent metal to imbue magic into and would also be fairly easy to source.

Hermione looked down at her list again that Draco had given her of all the things they would need and took a deep breath before looking back up at the smart polished sign that hung outside the shop he had directed her to as the most likely place to acquire most of it. The outlet of the Argentum Bros. Emporium in England was situated in the wizarding populated village of Tinworth and had apparently been the charmwork supplier of choice for Malfoy Enterprises under Lucius Malfoy. Thus it was where Draco was confident she should direct her search, and here she was. He had given her the name of an Aurelio Argentum as the person to help her if she gave his name. The Argentums, as an old Italian family of magical blood, would probably not mind doing a favour for old clients such as the Malfoys even in the post war political climate, so she needn't worry about bandying around his real name, he had said.

Braving the interior of the shop, she found a softly lit, subtly decorated room with neat display boxes full of precious metals, gemstones, magical artefacts and imbued objects, while behind the dark wood counter at the end of the shop were rows and rows of wooden shelves stacked with glass jars full of ingredients, and one panel of the wall which was hung with an assortment of what looked like tools, though Hermione had no idea what for. It looked like a high end apothecary come Jewellers or Metalworkers. Draco was right, she thought; they would be able to source a lot of the things they would need here.

She made it past the last display case which was full of floating paraphernalia, and approached a slightly-built man poring over a bundle of parchments at the end of the counter where there was a collection of colourful magical feathers in jars arranged behind him. She immediately made note of the Augurey feathers – that was one of the things on her list; three went into the crystal potion.

"Hehem," she cleared her throat to get the raven-haired man's attention.

He glanced up at her through a pair of large, rounded spectacle frames that made him look a bit like an eagle or owl, and smiled graciously. "Ah, Benvenuto, Signora!" He stepped around the counter. "and how may I help you, this fine afternoon?"

"Are you by any chance, Aurelio Argentum of the Argentum brothers?" Hermione checked, smiling as gracefully as she could manage in return to the charming Italian.

"Yes, yes, I am Aurelio indeed!" he exclaimed, his eyes glittering curiously at her from behind his spectacles. "And how does the Signora know of me?"

"A Mr Draco Malfoy informed me that you would be the one to help me acquire a number of rather rare items," she replied, to which a shocked look overcame Mr Argentum. He did not look alarmed, however, Hermione was relieved to find.

"Signor Malfoy, indeed?" He exclaimed. "Of course, of course, Mr Malfoy is quite correct, and I shall be most happy to help a friend of my most esteemed client," he continued. "May I see the list of the items you require?"

Hermione glanced down at the list she indeed was clutching in her right hand and that he had so astutely indicated. It was rather long. Besides a reasonable quantity of each of the metal alloys that Draco wanted to experiment with, she required the ingredients for the potion and the crystalline rock itself; known as either Apollonyme or 'Firediamond'; the rest of list read thus;

_Augurey Feathers (x3)_

_Asphodel_

_Powdered Scale of the Romanian Longhorn Dragon_

_Moonstone_

_A strand of Demiguise hair (8 inches)_

_Ramora eggs_

_Pomegranate_

_Granian Feathers_

_Syrup of Hellebore_

_Cassia Bark_

_Salamandar Blood (1 pint)_

_Anicca Beans_

_Crushed Lisianthus Petals_

_Lapis Lazuli_

Apparently Draco also needed her to get him some scales, Jeweller's tweezers and a small hammer, as apparently he couldn't do all of the shaping of the metal completely with magic, although most of it could be done with transfiguring spells and some heat-protection enchantments. That was all on the list below the ingredients.

Silently she handed the list over to the shopkeeper who ran an expert eye down the margin, noting immediately what he had to hand and what he didn't. An eyebrow raised at some of the more exceptional items. Probably the Damascus Steel, Adamantine, Firediamond and Demiguise hair, Hermione thought, watching him nervously. Some of the other things she could get without trouble but _they _would all be exceedingly difficult.

"Yes… I see why you have come to me," Aurelio finally raised his glittering eyes back to her, with a renewed curiosity evident there. "Several of these items I can pack up for you straight away, of course, but others will take some time indeed. Is there a particular hurry for you to have all these, Miss…?"

"Granger," she supplied graciously, watching as his eyes lit in recognition and an obvious hint of excitement at his esteemed guest's identity. "And yes, as much of a hurry as you can manage, at any rate," she continued anxiously, watching him for clues as to his ability to procure them and not ask questions.

"Miss Granger, how _delightful,"_ he purred. "I will contact my suppliers as quickly as possible and see about sourcing these more… unusual items here," he pointed to the Firediamond and the demiguise hair, as well as the Dragon scales- oh yes, she had forgotten those. "Of course, Ramora eggs are highly restricted due to the Ramora's… protected nature…" he paused contemplatively. "But regardless, they shouldn't be an issue," he summed up smoothly.

Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. _Here was a well connected purveyor of the difficult to come by. At least he wouldn't be asking too many questions himself if he was going to be supplying her with restricted goods without issue. _

"If you get back to me in a couple of days about these other ones, I'll see what I can do for you by then," he promised.

"Thank you very much Signor Argentum," she said sincerely, as he turned to start gathering up the more mundane items.

* * *

><p>She left the shop twenty minutes later with a box loaded with the majority of their supplies, and apparated straight back to Neville's house to unload. Draco did not look up from a complex equation he was studying on another length of pale wallpaper tacked up above the tables.<p>

Hermione greeted him. "Argentum had everything apart from the most precious of the potions ingredients; I've got the metal for you to start work with here," she said, passing it over.

Draco took the proffered items and started laying them out on the surface of his workbench. "I've been thinking, Granger. About what we are going to do once we have a working prototype," he began after a moment of busy preoccupation.

Hermione stopped her own sorting of the potions ingredients to look up at him. "What about it?"

"Well… how are we going to test it to know what's working and what's not?" he asked flatly, a clear look of concern on his face. "We can't exactly just pop to and fro from the past; we have no idea what will happen or if they will work for certain or if our adaptations will mean we'll be able to get back," he argued. "I hadn't really thought that part through until now."

Hermione paused. The truth was that she had no better idea than he did on that front. They could run all the arithmantic equations and diagnostic spells they liked; sooner or later there would come a part in the invention process where they would just have to trust to the fact that the turner was going to work the way they planned. She would have to go back without absolute proof that it would work.

To Draco she said, as reassuringly as possible, "We will run every test we can on paper to make sure it works, and then it will work, because we know it has done," she said simply.

"That's it?" Draco spat. "That's your great idea; 'it will work because I know it will work?'"

"What else can we do about it, Draco?" She shot back heatedly. "We will test it in as far as it's capacity to work as a normal timeturner does, by going back a minute or an hour or a day; but we will inevitably have no choice but to trust its reach beyond that."

Draco changed tacks. "How about the impermanence problem? Have we even got anywhere yet with the issue of how we are going to make it so that you can return to the present once your job is done?"

"I have added a number of ingredients to the list that I am going to try and incorporate into the potion imbuing the powdered crystal," Hermione nodded and started explaining. They had decided that while Draco got on with working out the actual charm work, Hermione would run the arithmantics on adapting the potion and try brewing it. That was something she could get on with once he had handed himself into the authorities. Hermione was particularly good at potions, having started experimenting with them once she had come into possession of the journal of the potions professor a year before. In many ways he had been even more her teacher in potion-making since that time than he had been in her days as his student. If there was anywhere where she could contribute in the independent thought part of their undertaking, and work out some of the adaptations they would have to incorporate, it was here; so that was what she was going to attempt. "The ingredients of the potion at present work to imbue the crystal in the hourglass with movement and strength. I want to add to that a layer of magic for impermanence, so that the timeturner can only pull you back for a limited time and then you are returned to the present, so I'm going to try and incorporate Salamander blood or Anicca beans for that." She rationalised. "Then there is the colour thing I was telling you about,"

"Colour thing?" Draco looked confused.

"Yes; it was theorized by Ingelby who did a lot of work on the original research into time done by the unspeakable in this book," she gestured at their guiding hand, the _Theories of Timeturners_ textbook, "that colour can play a crucial role in connecting you to different aspects of time," she repeated.

"Well… I don't pretend to understand that, but go on… what does this have to do with anything?"

"It's simple. You're working to make the turner stronger so that we can turn back further; but how do we specify how far back we want to go? I want to imbue the potion with just the right shade of the colour purple so that it only turns back to the area of time we are aiming for," she argued.

"Is that what all the purple flower petals are for?" he eyed them dubiously.

"They are Lisianthus petals, and yes, that is what they are for," Hermione agreed happily. She shrugged next though; "I don't know if it will work, but I'm going to give it a go. The lisianthus flower is generally quite receptive to magic in potions, but I might have to try something else…"

Draco still looked dubious but didn't argue. "Well it's an avenue to explore and it's not like we have many other ideas."

* * *

><p><span>Please Review<span>, it is such good inspiration to write the next part. & I _will _be uploading the next chapter next week, so stay with me guys!


	9. Progress

AN- It is Monday, and as promised here is the next installment. It is not particularly long, but there is going to be a lot happening soon so it is kind of necessary. Massive thanks for your reviews guys, I especially love all the enthusiasm and theories surrounding the time turners, and they are going to be keeping me going this week with Chapter 10. Also, there has been a request for more Hermione dialogue, and I do agree that there could be more; that is probably a weak point of mine, is the old dialogue part. So, I will try to address it in the next chapters and have more conversation from Hermione to the other characters, etc. Disclaimer – I write this for fun, nothing more

**Resurrection Snape**

**Chapter 9 – Progress**

"Well… I don't pretend to understand that, but go on… what does this have to do with anything?"

"It's simple. You're working to make the turner stronger so that we can turn back further; but how do we specify how far back we want to go? I want to imbue the potion with just the right shade of the colour purple so that it only turns back to the area of time we are aiming for," she argued.

"Is that what all the purple flower petals are for?" he eyed them dubiously.

"They are Lisianthus petals, and yes, that is what they are for," Hermione agreed happily. She shrugged next though; "I don't know if it will work, but I'm going to give it a go. The lisianthus flower is generally quite receptive to magic in potions, but I might have to try something else…"

Draco still looked dubious but didn't argue. "Well it's an avenue to explore and it's not like we have many other ideas."

* * *

><p>It was morning, and Hermione was dozing. Half awake and half still in the world of dreams, she replayed the events of her conversation with Snape. It had been five days since her memories returned and she had formulated her plan, and this was the fifth morning that she had woken up from reliving the triggering event.<p>

"_Stop doing that," she snapped. "Tell me what you do mean then. How could I have 'appeared' to you as you put it-"_

"_Well stop jumping to narrow-minded conclusions, then, please. You appeared to me, and you – you had the substance of a ghost, yet you were real, very real; it was no figment of my imagination. You spoke, and your voice sounded… like echoes; not really a true voice."_

"_What did I say?"_

"_You told me that you were from the future." He said simply. _

She sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp, finally breaking free of the intensity of the dream.

Of course! That was the way to make the trip back to the past an impermanent spell. Non corporeally moving through time; she wouldn't really be going properly into the past; only a part of her. At first she had assumed that appearing ghost-like, as he had said she would, was just some kind of a side-effect to going back so much farther than usual. But what if they did it deliberately? It would be like when pensieves take you back into the past in a memory; you're not _really _there; only this would be interacting with the past, not going into an echo. Less tangible so we are still tied to the present.

Thinking of pensieves… that gave her a further idea to that other problem they had been having. Hermione could feel a rising excitement within her as everything clicked into place. This was it. She could feel it. These would be the ideas that would make their timeturner a reality. It was that instinct that Draco had been taught to value by Snape; that she had finally been taught to value too, but through the voice of his journal.

* * *

><p>She burst into the makeshift lab in high spirits an hour later, to find Draco already there and muttering incantations over a twisted lump of magnesium. He carried on with what he was doing as she literally bounced up to him, but acknowledged her with a slightly surly, "Granger."<p>

"Draco," she inclined her head and then broke into a grin. He finally glanced up at her to note her giddy excitement and rolled his eyes, grimacing.

"You're way too cheerful this morning," he grunted. She opened her mouth to speak.

"-Don't tell me- you've had an epiphany," he drawled. "You've obviously figured something out or you wouldn't be grinning at me like a prize idiot right about now."

"Gee, ever the cheerful one, aren't we?" she retorted. "How Ginny puts up with you…"

"I'd be better with coffee," he grumbled.

"I'll bear that in mind next time I want to have a conversation with you before noon, shall I?" she replied sarcastically. "I'll get us some and then you can listen to my great idea!" she called as she swept out of the room towards Neville's kitchen and came back a minute or two later with two steaming mugs in her hands. She passed one to Draco and sat down on the stool next to him. "How's that going?" she asked, inclining her head towards the malformed piece of metal that he had been muttering spells and jabbing his wand at.

"I don't think that magnesium is the answer, that's how it is going," he said, frowning at it. "I'll have to leave these if I can't get it to take to the spells today," he ended. As per the agreement with Harry and Ginny, Draco was going to be handing himself into the authorities in the morning, and then they didn't know what would be happening. In an ideal world Hermione would not be allowing himself to do so while she still needed his help, but since he had come back to England with Ginny to do precisely that, he didn't want to leave it any longer. Draco had said that he just wanted to get it over and done with so that his fate wasn't hanging over his head anymore, and probably would have gone to the ministry as soon as he had stepped foot in the country if it hadn't been for Ginny, who was loath to let him do so and had been stalling for time, not willing to let him go in case the outcome wasn't as they hoped. That was probably why she hadn't asked too many questions when Hermione had said she was commandeering her boyfriend for a secret project for a few days; if it delayed the dreaded inevitable, then she wasn't particularly concerned about the why Hermione needed his help.

"Well, I have some other good news so hopefully I will be able to make some headway on my own, if necessary," She began to fill him in on her idea about the non-corporeal time travel.

"That's brilliant," Draco stared at the calculations now taking up a large part of the wall space, all pinned haphazardly on scraps here and there. Hermione inwardly marvelled at how he was able to compliment her idea without looking like he had swallowed something unpleasant. "We'll have to check that it doesn't affect any of the rest of the spellwork, but I should be able to work it into the enchantments I place on the metal."

"Yes?" Hermione didn't know much about spells he would be using for that part. "What else needs to be spelled into the metal directly?"

"It's like this; look;" he drew _theories of timeturners _over to them from its position propped against the wall on the back of the desk. "'In order to go back in time, we essentially need to achieve two things, as the book breaks down the spells on the turner; we need to _reverse _time, and we need to _speed it up. _Therefore, our spells enchanting the metal need to affect both direction, and velocity." He pointed out all the various squiggles in the book's spell diagram- something they learned to read in Arithmancy- that represented the different affects on the timeturner. "I'll try and add a third set of spells to affect corporeality to that, but spells affect each other, so it will be trial and error," he finished.

"Okay, I think I understand," Hermione nodded. "That's good then, but it's not all, either. I thought of something else this morning that will enable us to link directly to the time that we want; hopefully down to the very day or maybe even hour," she said excitedly. "It will work much better than tying the crystal to a vague area of time with the colour potion, if it's successful."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "What is it?"

"Well, I was thinking about the non-corporeal thing and how it would be similar to going back in a pensieve, only you would really be there; and then I thought; that has to be it! Because _that _can connect me!" she said excitedly.

Draco looked completely nonplussed. "Make some sense, will you? I got nothing from that,"

"Pensieves! We can use _Memory _to connect us to an exact moment in time!" Hermione clarified. "If make the sand in the turner triggerable by memory instead of the number of turns it makes, it can pull me straight back to the day I think of in my head!"

Draco's face cleared of confusion as he processed the information and then his own eyes took on an excitement. "That might just work," he agreed, rising from his seat. "Do you think you can adapt the potion to incorporate some kind of memory trigger?"

"Yes, that should be easy," Hermione hummed, "as there are lots of general potions ingredients associated with memory; I even have some in my potions kit back at the flat; oh, but I used up all my Jobberknoll feathers on the sleeping cordial I gave myself the other day… I'll have to pick up some more…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well we now have ways to adapt each segment that should theoretically give us a working model that has all the properties we need it to," he summed up. "I'll leave you to work out the details on the potion, and I'll have a look at the spell work this morning."

* * *

><p>Draco was leaving after lunch to spend the rest of the afternoon with Ginny. They had arranged to meet up with Harry and Ron at Grimmauld in the morning before they all went together to the Ministry. Harry and Ron worked in Magical Law Enforcement so could take Draco straight up to the offices of the Aurors where he would presumeably be officially charged with having been a Death Eater under Voldemort. Harry had arranged it all so that he and Ron would be available to take him in and cleared the time of the head Auror to greet them. Hermione and Harry had decided together that the best thing would be to make the head Auror aware that they we bringing in a former Death Eater who was coming in willingly to hand himself in and cooperate, and had contacted Harry, who both trusted him and believed his reformed character; but without giving any names. 'Malfoy' was likely going to create a buzz beforehand and there would be people who would never believe a Malfoy was to be trusted and shouldn't be locked straight up.<p>

Just before Draco exited the lab he turned and gave Hermione a troubled, pensive look, clearly hesitating to say something. Hermione; who busy balancing an equation related to her potion and weighing ingredients to scribble in to it; noticed and gave him a look. "What is it, Draco?"

He took a step back into the room from the doorway and swung his cloak over his shoulder. "It's just… why are you doing all this, Hermione? So much effort to rescue… Snape? You gave me plenty of reasons why _I _should be doing it when you were trying to convince me; He's my godfather, he saved my life… but what are _your _reasons? I just don't understand why you're so determined; why you are willing to risk everything for him, I suppose," he shrugged, looking curious.

Hermione sighed and laid her quill on the table. Leaning back in the chair, she looked up at the ceiling as she considered. "I don't know what to tell you, Draco," she began slowly. "He was always a horrible, snarky git to all of us and I bet that makes it seem incomprehensible now that I'm so willing to help him, but… he was- no, _is, _a great man. And he didn't just save you; he saved all of us during the war; his actions were the difference between our winning and losing. Doing everything he had to do and all the while so completely alone... If you ask me, we _all _owe him a massive debt which we can never repay. Why wouldn't I do everything just to ensure that he gets to live a life after the war, free of Voldemort and unbreakable vows and unforgivables…"

Draco looked abashed. "You're right. I couldn't have done what he did," he acknowledged.

"He asked me the same thing," Hermione said suddenly.

"What?"

"He wanted to know why I saved him. That's why he came to see me, the night he erased my memories," Hermione admitted. "The stupid git doesn't even understand how worthy he is… he doesn't understand that someone would want to thank him, or think him worthy of saving," she was starting to grow angry. "When I find him again, I'm going to make him understand," she vowed.

"When you find him again, he's going to skin you alive and then come after me," Draco snorted, trying for a bit of humour to lighten the heavy atmosphere they had gotten themselves into. "I'll see you in the morning, Granger."

"Ugh. _Please, _Call me Hermione, already," She groaned, putting her head in her hands but smiling nevertheless. She missed the smirk he gave her, as he turned and moved back to the doorway.

"Fine, whatever; I'll see you in the morning, _Hermione,_" he repeated.

"See you, _Malfoy_," she called back, laughing.

* * *

><p>Hermione pottered around the lab on her own for a little while after he left, working with her arithmantic formulas for the potion that would imbue the firediamond they didn't have yet. Then it would be powdered down and ready to be inserted into the hourglass that Draco would make. She had a lot to do to work out the best way of brewing all her additional ingredients into the existing recipe set out in <em>Theories of Timeturners. <em>Unfortunately, there wasn't much time she could give to the potion as she had to make an appearance at work that afternoon.

She had given her bosses at Obscurus Books very little explanation for her sudden almost- week-long absence –now, only phoning them hurriedly a few days previously to say she would be working from home, and was likely to be facing a fairly irate set of colleagues when she finally showed her face again. She was hoping that the fact that she had never done anything like this before nor would have ever even considered being absent from work before for so long, would stand to give her a little bit of leeway. As it was, since she was a junor editor, she had a little bit of free reign anyway to come and go as she pleased, and could easily work from home on manuscripts; so it wasn't as bad as all that.

Giving up on the potion for the moment, she set all the ingredients away carefully in the box she had appropriated for their storage. She piled all her notes in a neat stack for her next visit before Apparating to Diagon Alley to face the music.

Her apprehension only grew as she neared the end of the street where Obscurus Books was located. On entering and rising up the spiral staircase into the office part of the premises, the raven-haired secretary, Astraea, looked up from the stylish reception and appeared somewhat surprised to see her, before covering to change her expression to a smooth, cool smile that was her professional demeanour once more.

"Good afternoon, Astraea," she greeted her warmly as she passed, to which the young woman dutifully and politely responded with her own "Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

She took the staircase to the second floor where her small, cramped office overlooked the street at the front. It was easily the smallest room on this level, but Hermione always supposed that she was lucky to have her own office at all at junior level, and the view wasn't bad, so she didn't mind. She dumped her bag on the chair as the desk had a tottering pile of manuscripts balanced precariously in it's centre and another pile was stacked next to the desk that was even higher. Hermione spared a long, despairing glance for the piles of manuscripts that had built up. She had been managing her workload so well before all this started; it would take her weeks to clear this backlog.

Turning her back on the room once more, she went off in search of her Boss, Delphine Blake, knowing that she should find her and explain herself before getting a start on anything else. The first floor was quite large, a veritable rabbit warren of offices and meeting rooms that spanned out in no particular order. The corridors seemed to have a haphazard, meandering route that she always found difficult to navigate, and she had always thus suspected this to have had something to do with the fact that it was a magical building that was in all probability expanded and shrunk as more offices were needed over time.

Regardless of this, she set off down one route and popped her head into office after office, saying hi to colleagues that she encountered as amiably as she could, before finally locating the woman in question, chatting to Acantha about page layouts.

Delphine had a harsh, angular face that complimented her no-nonsense, business attitude; jet black hair, usually pulled back in a tight bun often reminded Hermione of dealing with her old Head of House, who was of a similar temperament as well as favouring that particular hairstyle. Delphine, however, sported a pair of thin, bright red spectacles from behind which her sharp eyes were cutting into Hermione in an assessing gaze as she made her way through the threshold into Acantha's messy space.

"Well, we haven't seen anything of you for the past few days, have we, hmm?" she greeted her employee. "Welcome back, Hermione. Care to tell us what has had you called away all week?"

Hermione winced. "Afternoon, Delphine, Acantha," she said, nodding at the other woman who gave her a tight smile before returning her attention to the page mock-ups she was working on. Hermione fixed her own attention on her boss who was waiting expectantly for her excuses. "Sorry I haven't been around to give you a better explanation until now, but something really important came up with a… a friend, and I just had to drop everything," she gushed. "I know I couldn't give you any warning but I've never had to do this before and it was kind of an emergency,"

"Kind of an emergency?" Delphine queried sceptically. "Either there was an emergency or there wasn't, Hermione, pick one."

She grimaced. "Yes ok, it was an emergency that I just couldn't ignore," Hermione replied, defending her corner. "I do have a chunk of holiday owed to me though, so you can take it out of that if you have to," she continued. "I would do the same thing again if I had to, and in fact I'm still going to need some more time off over the next week to see it through, though I'll do as much as I can on the manuscripts from home,"

Delphine sighed heavily and put her hand to her temple, massaging her head. "Look, Hermione; I don't begrudge you time off every now and then if you really do have some kind of family, _or friend, _emergency to see to, but it would really be better if you could at least give us a bit more information about when you will be back and give as much warning as possible," she reasoned. "Thus far you have been a brilliant Editor for me; one of the most promising workers we've had start for a long while; and you hardly ever take time off, which is why I'm willing to cut you some slack on this," she explained.

Hermione smiled in relief and made to thank her boss but Delphine held up a finger in warning to indicate she wasn't yet finished. "But Hermione," she began, "we will take the last week you have missed out of your holiday, and if you don't do some work from home over the next few days on the botany guide and the Weird Sister biography, you will have to take those off as holiday too, because we really can't afford to fall behind on schedule with them at the moment."

"Understood, Delphine, definitely," Hermione nodded vigorously. "I'll do as much as I can to catch up with the lost time, and I can send in my work with my owl."

"Very well."

* * *

><p>Severus was becoming increasingly frustrated. He had stopped Hermione from deciding to rescue him, hadn't he? Why was the fact of him slipping from existence being so delayed? He was tired of waiting around.<p>

He had come to a form of resolution as a result of his new, restless self. Everything he did seemed to form as a distraction for a short period of time only to become useless and ineffective against the onslaught of Hermione on his thoughts. Nothing sufficed. So he had come to the point at which he was determined to fall back on old methods and do something productive, something helpful.

He was going to hunt Death Eaters again.

There was a large group of Voldemort's followers still unaccounted for even two years after the war. Severus didn't know what in Merlin's name the Ministry Aurors were occupying their time with as it was not catching the bastards; there hadn't been any more apprehensions or arrests that he knew of in at least five months. True, he had come to somewhat of a standstill himself the last time he had attempted to track any of his former colleagues; but none of them were that bright. How long could they stay hidden without any sort of a trail to follow?

Of the Death Eaters that had been with him in the Inner Circle; Bellatrix, Crabbe Junior, Selwyn and Rosier had all died during the Battle of Hogwarts, while Lucius, Greyback, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, and Rodolphus Lestrange had all been tried and imprisoned directly afterwards, having been successfully subdued. But that had still left a lot of his former colleagues that had somehow managed to escape from the aftermath of the battle and disappear.

Everyone thought that Dolohov was one of the many who had somehow escaped, though of course Snape knew better, having polyjuiced and imperioused him personally to take his own place in the shrieking shack. He didn't need to worry about _him. _Since the battle, however, two years had passed during which Snape also knew that another five Death Eaters had been apprehended; he had given Avery and Travers both to the Ministry himself, as a matter of fact, after tracking them down and neutralising them. Although of course, the Ministry didn't know that. He had just conveniently left them both, nicely wrapped up, for the Ministry to find, and been done with it. They never knew who got them. The others that the Ministry had managed to get by itself had been the elder Crabbe and Goyles, and Mulciber. Not that _that _was much of an achievement; Crabbe and Goyle were about as slow and dim-witted as it was possible to get.

That left seven of the main Death Eaters still out there. Well; the Ministry would say nine, as they didn't know about Dolohov or Draco's whereabouts, but he was better informed. Macnair had somehow managed to escape the Great Hall after Voldemort's fall and effectively vanished completely. That left him, with Rabastan Lestrange, Nott, Rookwood, Rowle, Yaxley, and funnily enough, Gregory Goyle. Snape had never given that boy much credit, but it seemed he hadn't been as stupid as he looked, and got well out the picture somehow.

Severus thought sneeringly of Rookwood. As Voldemort's _faithful _spy, Rookwood had been a particular target for Snape for a while now; he could feel an even greater hate for him than the rest because he had made so much trouble for him passing on accurate information which Snape was always having to counteract. Not to mention he'd smoothly escaped Azkaban the first time around too. He had it coming to him, when Snape finally caught up to him. That being said, having been in charge of the Ministry intelligence gathering network, he was probably the smartest one going out of the remaining seven alluding capture, and Snape had not been getting anywhere tracking him thus far despite his prejudice. Therefore, possibly not the best target to concentrate on now.

There was a lead he had never had the desire to follow up until now. Because it would mean showing himself. But a lot of the Slytherins who had still been at school and had joined their families in the battle on Voldemort's side had been pardoned, as a result of their being underage or still of schooling age at the time. Theodore Nott was one such of his ex-pupils who was a free man still living in Wizarding Britain, and there was a chance that he knew his father's whereabouts. If there was any way to get a clue to point him in the right direction, therefore, it was with him.

But… was he getting reckless? Going to see the boy could be a bad move.

* * *

><p>Please hit review! I'll be back soon<p> 


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